Standard of Honor
by binayak95
Summary: What defines honor? Follow our favorite characters from the IC universe as they struggle to cope with their honor and what the world demands of them...AU ExA
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi everybody... Sorry for being an ass and completely abandoning my first two stories... When I read ICR, I cringe at the childishness of it... So that one has been completely abandoned. Dragonborn was a much better story and one I hope to pick up sometime in the future...**

 **I have been extremely busy in the intervening years and have had zero chance of uploading any new content ... But I have penned down several stories some of which will be uploaded in the near future.**

 **This one is a product of watching Kingdom of Heaven amidst a rereading of the IC. I hope you forgive my absence and that you enjoy the new story. Do feel free to rate and review... Criticisms are appreciated, as always... .**

 **Now for the usual: anything you recognise is not my work... All of that belongs either to Christopher Paolini or Bethesda Softworks...**

 **Without further ado here's the first chapter** **...**

 **Chapter 1**

 _Riverwood, late night. September 15th, 1897 T.E_

It was late at night, the sun's absence should have meant that the world outside should have been hidden under a veil of darkness, but it wasn't so. For the moon was in full bloom, casting a pearly white light over the town and the surrounding countryside.

The town itself was completely still. With only a few hours till dawn, everybody was resting, everybody, that is, except for the night guards and the young blacksmith who was hammering away at a plate of red hot steel beside his roaring forge.

The young man in question couldn't sleep at all, his mind haunted by strange images and sounds for the last few days. The fact that he was unable to recollect any of his dreams only made it worse, leaving him with a sense of approaching doom.

His uncle and cousin were due to return by the next day's afternoon from their trip to the northern mines... He hoped that they were safe and that they had made profitable deals.

He allowed the chest plate of the steel armor he was crafting to cool down, it was almost done, and allowed his mind to wander. It had been three weeks since they had left, leaving him in charge of the forge and the shop for the first time. He felt he had done reasonably well... having received and completed orders for three sets of light scale armor and several new battle axes -a very popular weapon for hunters and mercenaries in the region. Thinking of weapons led him to the shop and thence to the display rack behind the main counter where a brand new steel warhammer awaited it's owner. He had completed the weapon on the previous night, as a gift for his cousin. It would suit his combat style and his heavier build... So much like uncle Garrow's... The shaft he had wrought out of a thick heavy branch of seasoned oak, whittling it with a draught till it had achieved his desired measurements... He had then taken the wooden shaft and dipped it whole into a tub of molten copper-steel alloy producing a thin but strong layer. He was sure that the shaft would block the heaviest of weapons and not buckle. The hammer itself was one solid piece of tempered steel, the finest he could produce with a large round face, with the edges slightly curving inwards and a thick spike on the other end with a through hole in the middle for the shaft. The heavy head was balanced by a ball of lead on the other end of the shaft, about the size of a large apple. Overall the weapon was about four feet tall. He was very happy with the end result and hoped that Roran felt the same.

Stowing away the almost finished, and still warm, chest piece, Eragon decided to retire for the night. He let the forge die down on its own, knowing very well that the guards would appreciate it's warmth. Yawning expansively, he sunk into his warn bed, satisfied at the end of a hard day's and night's work.

 _Three days later, evening, Riverwood_

"Your son and nephew have grown into fine young men, Garrow... Marian and Selena would be happy and proud, " Brom, the Guardian of the North, muttered to his old friend as both nursed their ale. The two of them were enjoying an evening in the Sleeping Giant, the town's only tavern. The fact that a person of the status of Brom could mingle with the common folk and no one had any problems spoke volumes of the Northerner's attitude towards nobility...

The man, Garrow, nodded -the golden glow of the dozens of scattered braziers giving his bald head a sheen of its own.

"I did my best by them, no _we_ did our best..." the old man sighed, regret and longing filled his voice, "by the time Marian died, both boys were almost fourteen..." He took a deep breath before looking at Brom sharply, "why did the thought cross your mind, anyway?"

Brom chucked, the old smith was as sharp as ever..., "I know you won't like this..." the silver haired veteran started, "but both your boys have approached me to enlist in my forces."

Garrow was shocked, he has made it very clear to both the boys that they weren't to join the army. Roran was his only son and heir and Eragon... Eragon was his sole remaining link to his beloved sister... He couldn't bear losing either of them! His shock quickly gave way to anger and as he was getting up to go and give those... those scoundrels a piece of his mind, Brom forced him to sit down.

"Listen to me, old friend, before you do anything. Eragon and Roran are both eighteen- and while it is no longer compulsory for them to join the army, unlike in our time, they should nonetheless do so. The army shaped us into the men we are today... Life in the service is harsh, brutal even but it is a fire that forges young strapping boys into men, arming them for life and all of it's hardships. I'll make sure that they are looked after, I swear it. And after five years of service they can come back richer, both financially and in terms of the experience gained... So, what say you?"

Garrow gazed into his friend's cerulean eyes and knew that Brom was being completely honest with him. He forced himself to look at the question rationally, not one of his strongpoints... And was forced to acknowledge the truth of Brom's words- the army had shaped his life and had made him a better man. And the Army of the North, as their army was known, was unlike any other- it was a strictly professional service with strict discipline and very good officers... All the soldiers were well paid and honorable... Hell, the men of the North, of Palancar Valley prided themselves on their honor and trustworthiness. Also it wasn't as if the boys were helpless either. He has personally trained them to the best of his ability... Eragon was a great archer and a fine swordsman... While Roran was near untouchable with the warhammer that Eragon had crafted.

He grimaced, before reluctantly nodding to Brom, much to the latter's delight...


	2. Chapter 2: Beginnings

**AN: Hello folks... Chapter 2 is up! Read, enjoy and review!**

 **Standard disclaimer folks, anything you recognise isn't mine it's either Christopher Paolini's or Bethesda's**

 **Ky111: Thanks for the support buddy... Greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy this chapter and keep reviewing.**

 **Ryan: I hope this chapter answers your questions about Palancar Valley. Surda doesn't yet exist as a separate monarchy. It will soon... Thanks for the support.**

 **Chapter 2: Beginnings**

 _March 19th, 1901 T.E_

 _Therinsfjord_

Both cousins had quickly risen through the ranks, thanks to both their prowess and strong moral fortitude. Very early on in their careers, the cousins had to part ways- Roran preferred to fight with both his feet planted firmly on the ground, with his brothers in arms on either side of him in a shield wall and the solid comforting weight of his warhammer in his hands; Eragon on the other hand, gravitated towards heavy cavalry- he loved the exhilaration of a flat out charge at enemy ranks, the drumming of hundreds of shod hooves filling his ears and the feel of his powerful horse surging forward with every stride underneath him. He would often describe the close bond between a rider and his horse to his cousin, but it would always fall on deaf ears. On foot, Eragon was no slouch either- quick footed, agile and strong, Eragon was a terror with the hand and a half sword that he had crafted for himself.

His unit, the 3rd Squadron of the Xth Cavalry Legion had been recalled to the military headquarters in Therinsfjord... They had arrived from the northern forts just the previous evening. Eragon, as captain, was heading to the Keep to report to the High Constable. The Northern Provinces, as Palancar Valley and the islands of Doru Araeba were together called as, were under the direct rule of the Council of Shru'utugal... It was for all practical purposes an independent state. Palancar Valley was under the Elder Knight Oromis and Glaedr. The pair were amongst the highest ranking members of the ancient order. Dragon Knight Brom and Saphira were one of the four other dragon-rider pair under Oromis and was responsible for the areas of Riverwood, Therinsfjord, Ivarstead and Helgen; basically the territories that bordered the frozen wastelands to the North, the vast impenetrable forests of the Du Weldervarden to the east and the Brodding Kingdom to the south. Other Dragon Knights were responsible for the borderlands of the Spine... Eragon was glad he didn't have to serve anywhere close to those horrid mountains and the Urgal tribes that lived amongst them.

The islands of Doru Araeba were under the rule of the Arch Knight and Dragon themselves- and most of the Elder Knights lived there as well, although a few served as Ambassadors and advisers to the various kingdoms and thus lived in the capital cities of Illirea, Ellesmera and Tronjheim. In 1326 T.E, the Shru'utugal had established a military force to assist the Riders in times of both war and peace. This force was raised in the Northern Provinces and was composed of both men and elves. Each Dragon Knight was given the responsibility of a given territory and tasked with its governance and security. Brom had been governing his patch of land for close to three decades now.

He had finally reached the office of the High Constable and presented himself to the guards outside the double doors- heavy infantry from their uniform and weapons. Eragon could feel the distaste of the guards for him- all because of him being a cavalry trooper. The guard on the left, a pilus prior from the looks of him, unsheathed a dagger strapped to his back and banged on the doors thrice with its hilt, announcing loudly in a gruff voice, "Captain Eragon of the Xth Cavalry seeks an audience, sir!" A clear "Let him in" was heard a moment later. The guards stepped inwards, grasped the handles of the double doors and pulled simultaneously, opening the doors outwards. Eragon nodded to each guard and stepped in, conscious of the way the sound of his steel plate armor changed as the floor beneath him transitioned from sandstone to marble. The room beyond the doors was rather large and seemed even more so because of the furnishings, or lack of... The room was functional, spartan almost... Although Eragon wasn't surprised, Legate Cicero was well known and we'll respected among the men for his unflinching moral stature and incorruptibility.

Eragon marched to stand in front of the Legate desk and smashed his left fist against his chest plate with a loud clang, saluting the senior officer.

The Legate, still sitting behind the desk, pouring over some thick reports waved Eragon towards one of the four chairs and he say down, removing his helm as he did so. The Legate looked the same as last time, close cropped greying hair, sharp nose, grey eyes glinting with intelligence and cunning, clean shaven and physically still in his prime.

"At ease, Captain, " Cicero leaned back in his high-backed chair to look at critically, "you and your men have been on the northern frontier for little over two years now, right?" He waited for Eragon's nod, "I wonder what you have to say about the conditions of the frontier?"

It was quite clear to the young captain that the legate was asking about the present situation of the frontier vis-a-vis the incursions from the north, and not of the comfort of the men.

"The raids were increasing in frequency and complexity before the winter set in... Now, of course winter has put a stop to the raids but I anticipate the raids to resume with a vengeance with the coming of spring, sir."

"Complexity? What do you mean?"

"When we first deployed to Fort Greymoor, a little more than two years ago, raids used to occur sporadically, with the wild men penetrating our territories randomly at any point between Windhelm and Raven's Perch. The cavalry patrols had been organized accordingly and we would often catch them a mile or two inland... Back then, they raiding parties were small groups of savage, indisciplined barbarians armed with crude weapons and absolutely no idea of military tactics. They were little more than bandits and rather easy to deal with, " Eragon let out a breath. "But ever since the last summer solstice, things have changed... The wild men suddenly are more disciplined, they carry serviceable swords, spears they wear armor. They are sending out scouts, they plan attacks and have even attempted to ambush several patrols... The size of their warbands are increasing as well... The last one I intercepted was a hundred strong and one of three similar sized warbands that had intruded simultaneously across our borders. I do not like how things are heading sir, not one bit."

"I've had received reports from the other captains about increased raids, but none of them seem to have noticed this obvious pattern of increasing numbers and 'complexity', " the legate murmured, his brows furrowing.

Eragon muttered, a bit angrily, "that's because no other Squadron has been deployed there as long as mine."

The legate nodded, ignoring the jibe, "what would you suggest we do... if the pattern holds out?"

"The best thing to do would be to build a wall all along the northern frontier, from the Spine to the Elven fortress of Amroth... Short of that, forward deploy more cavalry squadrons for greater coverage. Gods forbid, if any of those warbands break through to the plains, it will be a massacre."

The old warrior nodded sagely and handed Eragon a thick missive, "the transfer documents for you and your unit. You are being posted to Ivarstead. Your mission objectives remain unchanged, you are to patrol and secure the area especially the border with the Brodding Kingdom... You will also be coordinating with the Elven Rangers when you are there, so be on your best behavior. Any questions?"

"No sir."

"Then you are dismissed."

 _March 20th, 1901 T.E_

 _Somewhere along the road to Ivarstead_

He was looking forward to some peace and quiet after months at the forts on the northern frontier- fending off increasingly difficult raids of the outlander territories.. Nobody really knew who ruled up there or even if there was a Kingdom beyond Windhelm, the last great city in the North. None of the expeditionary forces sent North had ever returned and nowadays nobody even tried, the weather was damn near inhospitable as it was. Ivarstead was a small walled town on the border with both the Brodding Kingdom and Du Weldervarden and was a peaceful posting, much sought after by captains.

The journey from Therinsfjord to Ivarstead was of about ninety miles and he had planned for all manner of mishaps and foreseeable problems. His Squadron had forty heavy cavalry, ten cavalry archers and ten hobilars. The cavalry archers and hobilars acted as scouts and messengers and rode ahead of the Squadron in groups of five. They had stocked up on Therinsfjord before setting out on the six day ride... provided the weather remained pleasant. The worst of the snow had already melted and the dozens of rivers and streams were swollen with the fresh meltwater. It was the mid of spring and the land itself seemed to be alive, joyous and celebrating... but appearances were deceiving.. Summer and spring always brought the heaviest raids from the wild men and the Urgals... He didn't envy the units posted along the frontier.

They were riding along the outer skirts of the forest of Du Weldervarden- four riders abreast and thirteen deep with the scouts and hobilars in the center... a very powerful and dense concentration of troops. Ten men were somewhere ahead, scouting for tracks of unusual nature.

Eragon knew that they were in safe territory, far away from the frontier on all sides. In three directions lay their own territories and to the East lay the vast reaches of the Elven Nation. Thus reassured, he allowed himself to relax sightly and enjoy the remainder of the journey... Raids hadn't penetrated into these areas for decades and weren't likely to anytime soon.

He had no idea just how wrong he was about to be proven.

 **A bit sombre ending... So what do you people think? Hit that Review button and tell me!**


	3. Chapter 3: The Invasion

**AN: thanks for all the reviews, Ky111 and Ryan! Appreciate the support... Anyway chapter three is up! I hope that you like it and enjoy it as much as I did in writing it. Update speeds will likely be one chapter every two-three days.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: anything that you recognise is not mine... It's either Christopher Paolini's or Bethesda's...**

 **Chapter 3: The Invasion**

The events that followed a week later would take everyone in the military hierarchy by complete surprise and would cost the deaths of thousands...

It all started on the 23rd of March, 1901 T.E, barely two days after Eragon and his unit had settled down in the town of Ivarstead. Late that night, well over six thousand warriors crossed into the Palancar Valley from the frozen wastelands in the North. They did so with complete secrecy and great speed, ransacking and plundering the villages of Yazuac, Rorikstead and Elkstone before midday... Even them the squadrons on the frontier remained unaware of the invading force which had managed to push further down the valley... Only excessive caution on the part of the enemy forces prevented them from reaching Windhelm on the same day. Eventually, a small scouting troop of light cavalry found the enemy, twelve miles from the same city.

That wasn't all though, several small groups of hundred men each had hiked through the outer ring of the forests of Du Weldervarden before wheeling around and attacking the Valley from the South!

Eragon's prediction of increasing complexity had been proven true beyond his wildest dreams... But he didn't have the heart of saying "I told you so."

He had received several dozens of scryed messages, reporting the latest intelligence regarding the enemy's latest movements... All in all, the messages only served to increase the confusion, painting a very chaotic image of the evolving situation.

Eragon had responded by fortifying the town further, he dug deep trenches all around the walls, putting both his men as well as the garrison to work. The residents helped to the best of their ability as well. The trenches had taken little over three days to complete and once complete, meant that the town could only be taken by a serious siege by a vastly superior force. Between his squadron and the garrison, Eragon had close to two hundred men at his disposal, of whom about sixty were archers, each armed with the dreaded laminated recurve bow.

Eragon had sent out scouts to make sure that any approaching enemy forces from any direction won't take them by surprise... He has learnt the lesson of the Frontier Debacle well.

Four days in and in the complete absence of any enemy presence whatsoever, the townspeople approached Eragon, requesting him to allow them to gather more resources from the nearby forest in preparation of a possible siege. Eragon, weighing the pros and cons of the suggestion, relented and allowed the people to send out foraging parties to the nearby forest to hunt for food and wood, but always under the watchful guard of twenty heavy infantry.

On the seventh day since the Invasion, that is, on the 30th, Eragon's scouts found an enemy infantry formation, s hundred strong, six days march away from their location. The enemy did not have any siege weapons of any description and Eragon felt sorely tempted to let the enemy come and break their strength against their fortifications, but deemed out too risky... Instead, he decided to preemptively attack them with his heavy cavalry at a location of his choosing... Worst case scenario would be that he would have to withdraw to the safety of his walls, but even then at least he would get a measure of the enemy and perhaps weaken them as well.

The next morning, all forty heavy chevaliers rode out of walled town heading south with the determination to meet their elusive enemy in battle and crush them.

They travelled quickly, heading south west along the Edda river towards the clearing known as Greenspring Hollow- a site of an ancient battle between the elves and the dragons. The land had been so thoroughly drenched in magic and fire that nothing bigger than grass ever grew there. The scouts had confirmed his suspicions that the enemy would seek to camp there for the night. Eragon planned to confront them before they could encamp.

It was perfect terrain for a cavalry charge- light rolling hills, woods surrounding the two mile wide circular area, tall waist high stalks of cottontails growing all around the edges.

Eragon positioned his men in a depression behind a gentle hill. The enemy soldiers would be marching in from the exact opposite direction... Thus, it was of critical importance that they did not see his forces to early or else they could easily take shelter in the woods, making things much more difficult. Eragon knew very well that he was outnumbered by more than two one, but he didn't let that worry him to much... Deployed properly, in the right terrain, his chevaliers could take on three to one odds and still win.

Eragon and his men settled down for a long wait, he figured that they had atleast six hours in hand before the enemy made his appearance. So, they watered and fed the horses- light meals- to keep them from being weighed down before the battle... And the men themselves relaxed as much as they could, partaking of light meals and checking their weapons and armor.

Eragon called over his officers to go over the most likely battle plan. Someone suggested splitting up their forces into two halves, keeping twenty men to charge from the front and ten men to attack from either flank. Eragon had already considered that course of action and had summarily rejected it- it would be foolish to split up his forces when faced with a numerically superior opponent. By the end of the meeting, they were able to chalk outa half baked plan of attack... final touches would be given only after the enemy's formations had been observed.

They had arrived long before midday and by the time the enemy arrived, emerging slowly from the shadows of the woods beyond, it had already been close to sunset. The enemy was marching in a square formation- ten men wide and ten men deep, singing out a war song of some sort in a rough and guttural language that was gibberish to Eragon. Drummers kept cadence, their loud, rhythmic percussions giving the whole affair a distinctive military bearing.

Eragon was most impressed... These were clearly men of the lands beyond their frontier, their physique and language were distinctive and easily recognizable, but these were no wild men whom Eragon had so easily slaughtered during his stint at the frontier... No, these were professional infantry, marching in disciplined formations, bearing serviceable weapons and round shields and donning chain mail armor with thick steel skullcaps and flat helms. 'Thank the Gods that they have no pikemen or we would be in serious trouble,' Eragon thought as he observed the enemy march ever closer to their position. He was lying on his belly, perched on top of the hill.

He waited till the infantry had covered a third of the distance between them before quickly descending to where his own men waited, already mounted. They could all easily hear the loud raccous singing and the steady cadence of the war drums. The men were nervous, heck, he was nervous... This would be their first time in combat against a disciplined enemy. Eragon mounted his faithful destrier, Roheryn, and turned her about to face his men.

"I have never, ever lied to you, my brothers, and I will not begin doing so now. We are, for the very first time, facing a determined and disciplined enemy who has had the gall and the skill to invade our homeland! They have made the decision to attack, to snatch away our lands and to kill our families... Listen to them, singing raccously, anticipating the pleasures and war bounty that lie ahead... Remember the horrors that we have heard of what befell Yazuac, Elkstone and Rorikstead! Remember our fallen! This evening, we avenge them!"

The men roared as one and Eragon was grateful for the enemy's war song and war drums. They had drowned out his men's cheers.

They moved up, scaling the low hill to stand in four rows, each ten men wide. The first two rows were one group, the next two, another. In each group, the first row carried lances while the second row carried swords. Both groups would charge one after the other, with a five count delay between both charges.

As soon as all of his men had formed up, Eragon gave a sharp nod to his trumpeteers. The two men raised their instruments to their mouths and gave a long winded clarion call, drawing the attention of the enemy whose singing and drumming ceased. Eragon couldn't help but smirk, before donning his full face helm and raising his lance...

"Forward!," he roared and all twenty horses of the first group moved ahead, transitioning quickly to a trot.

The enemy appeared to be terrified into indecisiveness before with a shout, bunching up together into a tight circle. 'Amateurs,' Eragon found himself thinking, 'bunching up makes you that much more easier a target.'

They trotted until they were about three hundred yards away and Eragon kicked his horse's flanks, urging Roheryn to a full gallop, "CHARGE!", he roared and his men cheered, following him.

Ten lances descended from their vertical position until they sure m were angles slightly downwards. The men were at full gallop now, the thunder of the shod hooves of forty warhorses drowning out all other noises.

He could almost see the terrified faces of the enemy soldiers and his smirk widened. He knew very well just how fearsome his cavalry must appear to the enemy, decked out as the men and horses were with the finest steel plate armor and with the setting sun painting them a blood red... They must appear as a vision from hell itself!

Fifty paces, and the infantry was shifting uneasily, clearly frightened of the thundering cavalcade.

Thirty paces, and some of the rearmost soldiers gave a loud yell before running for the trees.. The trickle swelled into a full flood as all hundred infantrymen routed, running full tilt for the distant trees.

It was a complete massacre as the heavy cavalry fell upon the running infantry, slaughtering every last one of them, destroying the unit completely and riding away with barely a scratch.

The Battle of Greenspring Hollow became quickly the stuff of legends among the soldiers of Palancar Valley and Eragon found himself promoted to senior Tribune, in command of three full turma or two hundred and ten men. The first full cavalry cohort! He based his forces in Ivarstead and was responsible for the protection of all approaches from the Brodding Kingdom.

Several more battles took place in the Northern frontier. The Shru'utugal had attacked the forces besieging Windhelm-causing great devastation among enemy ranks, forcing them to withdraw. A surprising aspect of that battle was the revelation that the enemy had a decent supply of powerful spellweavers. Not very strong, but enough to cause no slight amount of trouble.

The tide was slowly turning... Legate Cicero, in a missive to Eragon had informed him that some twelve thousand enemy soldiers had invaded their territory... The number was a great shock... They didn't know that they many people even lived up there! The elves had mobilised their forces and had effectively sealed off the forests, killing and capturing some two thousand soldiers who had been waiting to attack Palancar Valley from the south. I'm addition, twelve pairs of dragons and riders had joined the war against the invaders, greatly relieving the pressure on the beleaguered forward deployed cavalry regiments. The Great Invasion of 1901 was for all intents and purposes, over.

But one last great, history making event was about to occur and it works overturn our newly minted Tribune's life forever...

 **Another minor cliffhanger... I couldn't resist... So, like it? Hate it? Review and tell me about it...!**


	4. Chapter 4: Betrayal

**AN: So so so sorry, for being so late in uploading this chapter…even though it was written down on paper weeks ago, I had no access to any pc or even a smartphone to type it up….so yeah sorry. Now that I am home, the next chapters will come up regularly.**

 **About Roran, there will be a whole series of chapters dealing with his struggles much later in the storyline. Be patient.**

 **Chapter 4: Betrayal**

 _May 19_ _th_ _, 1901 T.E Ivarstead_

The last two months since the Battle of Greenspring Hollow had been hectic to say the least, for Eragon and his expanded corps of senior officers. Their area of responsibility had been expanded to cover the whole of the Southern Approaches to and from the Brodding Kingdom. Ivarstead itself had been completely expanded, its wooden palisades replaced with walled ramparts that stretched out in arrowhead shaped projections that covered all approaches to the walls from any side. The garrison had been increased to 600 infantry and archers and the cavalry strike force under Eragon had been increased to four turma of heavy cavalier or sixty and hundred men and three turmas of hobilars and light cavalry archers.

Eragon himself couldn't get out on many patrols, he had to make do with organizing and sending out several smaller groups of patrols to police the surrounding areas. The cavalry riding out to far flung reaches of the hold while the infantry patrolled the areas within a day's march. Things had been hectic, yes but Eragon found the busy routine much to his liking, it kept his mind off the strange sounds and visions that haunted his sleep. In the beginning the noises and visions had been formless, making no sense at all to his sleep occluded mind and leaving him bewildered when he woke up, unable to recall anything apart from a growing sense of unease. Now he dreams were whispered message or warning of some kind…how he knew this, he himself knew not, but he felt it in his soul that the dreams were conveying a message of great import to him, and his inability to recall or understand this message frustrated him to no end.

The war was drawing slowly to a close and the men and women of the north were preparing for a final thrust northwards, to push away the Outlanders back into their frozen wastelands. Talk grew of a revenge attack into enemy territory, to seek out vengeance for the lives lost and the damage done…. A counter invasion that would be so devastating that the Outlanders would tremble with fear at the thought of the Northern Provinces. Eragon had heard that this talk originated among the new crop of riders who had seen combat for the first time. A young rider named Galbatorix was the leader of these aggressive riders.

He was broken out of his thoughts when Lucannus, his second in command entered his office, with a rather grave face.

"What is it, my friend? Why the long face?" Eragon asked.

"The Red Rider has been sighted my lord. He seems to be heading directly here."

That made Eragon frown. The Red Rider, Morzan was a contemporary of Brom and was one of the few who gave the riders such a bad name. Rude, arrogant and a right pain in the ass for everybody, Morzan was thoroughly disliked by other riders and his subordinates. The fact that he was a brilliant tactician and fighter was unquestionable, but his prowess made him even more insufferable for others. The rumor was that wherever the Red Rider went, disaster followed.

"Prepare an honor guard and make sure that all are wearing their parade best armor… how long do you think it will take him to arrive here?"

Five minutes or so, sir…I have already told the men of the honor guard to prepare. They will ready for the rider in two minutes or so."

"Good." Eragon nodded, dismissing the Captain as he himself made ready, asking his adjutant to get his ceremonial armor ready for donning.

Eragon watched with increasing trepidation as the bright red spot approached from the west horizon, growing ever closer until he was unbelievably huge, its blood red body blanketing his entire field of vision. The dragon hovered over their camp, its huge wing strokes sending huge gusts of winds through the sends, collapsing several and causing his own legionary tent to flutter dangerously. As the dragon slowly descended, Eragon was forced to shield his eyes from the mini dust storm that momentarily sprang up.

He had arranged an honor guard of two columns of fully armored chevaliers facing inwards at a gap of about a hundred feet, to cater for the large body of the dragon and the rider. He himself was mounted, sitting astride Roheryn, the black destrier that had seen him through far too many scrapes. The rider, meanwhile had just descended from his saddle more than twenty feet above the ground.

Eragon drew his sword and saluted the rider, raising its point to the sky. Morzan did not return the salute, sneering at Eragon as if he had insulted his wife! Forcing back a strong desire to slap the man with his armored fist, Eragon greeted him with a cold formality.

"Welcome, Morzan Shrutu'ugal to Ivarstead. I am Eragon BloodBorne, Senior Tribune of the 2nd Millarian, Valeria Victrix."

The man nodded in reply and swept his hand towards the Commander's tent, "I have missives of great import for you, it would be better if we continued our discussion in the privacy of your tent."

Eragon agreed and led the way to the tent, quite deliberately forgetting to welcome the dragon, a serious breach of protocol, yes but one he felt compelled to do nonetheless.

"The Invasion which but three weeks ago seemed almost over, has evolved into something far more sinister, the Urgal tribes attacked and destroyed the port city of Riften three days ago. So swift was the attack that we received no warning from the city's garrison. Instead a wild dragon who was flying overhead observed Urgal packs chasing down fleeing citizens and intervened, saving some and buying us some time.

You are to take all of your cavalry and divert south, intercepting the Urgal packs on the trail of the refugees. Protect the people at all costs, but do not get yourself killed, we cannot afford to lose our most experienced cavalry unit. Any questions?"

Eragon raised his head from the map he had been studying ever since he heard the word 'Riften', "any idea of the numbers of urgals we may face, Shrutu'ugal? And if you could brief me about their tactics and deployment strategies? Like are they moving in traditional fifty strong packs or are they banding together in large armies? Are they using scouts, and the like?"

Morzan reddened in anger, "Just do as you're told, Tribune and stop asking questions of your betters!" He stormed off, dumping the pile of letters at the table.

He heard the heavy footfalls of armored feet on packed dirt and then the jarring thuds of humongous dragon wings beating into the still hot air as he took off. Eragon picked up the loose scrolls and studied them, relieved that they had the information he sought.

"That went well, don't you think?" his adjutant asked suddenly from where he had momentarily stood open mouthed.

 _Five days later. Midday. Along the Grand Road from Winterhold to Surda_

Riften was a small port city that lay snuggled between the Spine on one side and the Sea of Ghosts on the other… the mountains of the Spine extended for about three miles inland before eventually giving way to the vast plains of the Palancar Valley. Eragon knew that the narrow road through the pass towards the city would have been the perfect trap for fleeing refugees and the worst possible place to use his cavalry. They would be slaughtered to the last man.

He had set out five days ago from Ivarstead, taking with him the entirety of his chevaliers and only a dozen scouts. Ivarstead he left in the capable hands of the infantry tribune, Claudius and his men. They were still two days ride from the Eagle's Brood pass to the coast and there was no hint nor shadow of the infantry reinforcements that should've been waiting for them. Eragon grew worried as they drew closer, without infantry support, it would suicidal to venture into the pass, he hoped that the infantry was ahead of them or failing that, the urgals were already done with the city and had moved into the plains.

He drew his horse to a stop and gestured to Luccanus to come closer. Eragon observed the low hills on their right flank, running along the length of the coast and only the first of the majestic mountains of the Spine…He pointed out a small hill and the one behind it, "make camp in the depression between those two hills, the site will provide ample protection from the elements and away from hostile eyes. Get me a faster mount, Roheryn's tired and five of your best riders. Tell them to prepare for a night of hard riding and to don light armour. I'm going to scout ahead...," Eragon told his second-in-command. Luccanus nodded in reply and wheeled away, shouting orders to the quartermaster and the commander of the vanguard to move towards the designated camping site.

 _Later that evening….Commander's Tent_

He looked critically at the men Luke had picked…he knew each one of them, being their CO. they were good, honest men to the core with a clear head and a remarkable sense of honor. Luke had chosen well, he decided and nodded to himself, satisfied with what he had found.

"Sit down, gentlemen and help yourselves," Eragon said, gesturing to the small pile of refreshments on the table and the six chairs behind it.

The men sat down, still straight backed and stiff, unaccustomed to being in the personal camp of the CO, and not one of them touched the food. Eragon shook his head, knowing well that it would take a direct order from him to get them to partake from the food.

"I know very well that all of you must be wondering why you were all approached by Captain Luccanus and told to report here. Let me put your minds at ease by telling you that no, you've done no wrong, atleast none that I know of." That brought a small smile on their faces, as Eragon had hoped it would. "I feel uneasy about the prospect of entering the Eagle's Brood pass, something smells wrong. And even though I know that the people in the city of Riften must be in great suffering, I will not go charging in blindly, and risk all of our lives….Us being dead helps nobody. What I've decide is that we, that is, you five men, who have been adjudged as the best riders in the cohort, and me will ride out tonight to recce the area around and in the pass. Wear black leather armor, carry a sword and a shield and a bow and a quiver of arrows, do not carry too much provisions, we will live off the land. And move heaven and earth to muffle your armor and harness."

Eragon moved to dismiss his men, but paused, "this mission will be extremely dangerous and there is no shame in admitting that you don't feel like coming along…the only shame will be when you die…So anybody who wished to leave, now is the time to speak up." Eragon waited for a count of five and when there was no indication of anybody doing so, he dismissed them.

The first thing he felt when he came to was the blistering heat of a campfire right somewhere behind him….his vision was blurred and all he saw was the dull grey of the stone wall in front of him.

Eragon panicked as he realized that he did not recognize the surroundings in which he found himself, nor did he remember how he arrived there. His hands and feet were bound as well…tightly, it seemed. Fear clung to his heart and mind like a dense shroud, making all his senses hazy….he frantically tried to roll around, to sit up, to do something…but found himself immobile.

Taking a deep breath, Eragon steeled himself to try once again but suddenly felt something push him in the back, making his limp body roll. As he came to, he found himself face to face with the most terrifying sight in his short life.

 **Again, sorry for the tardiness. A cliffie, where is Eragon and who has him? How do you like it?**


	5. Chapter 5: Developments

**AN: Sorry for the delay….And Diwali greetings to everybody! HAPPY DIWALI!**

 **Any way, this chapter brings out the major plotline of the story, the story of Eragon's rise to greatness… and his eventual bond with Saphira….who hasn't even made an appearance so far, I know…. Arya also makes an appearance in this chapter.**

 **Notes:**

 **Akatosh: chiefest and greatest of the Pantheon of Gods who created the mortal plane.. Nirn**

 **Greybeards: an order of monks who follow the Way of the Voice to strive balance and peace in Nirn… Allies of the riders, but fiercely independent as well.**

 **Alduin: Firstborn of Akatosh, greatest dragon to ever live, famed God of Destruction….Often considered as an avatar of Akatosh**

 **Paarthunax: Also Firstborn of Akatosh and twin to Alduin….**

 **Now read on and enjoy the chapter…. The various factions involved in the story will be explained as the chapters continue.**

 **Chapter 5: Develpments**

 _Crags of Tel'Naier, 17 years ago_

"Now I see why you had so stubbornly insisted on my presence," the elderly man said to his elven friend as they watched the latter's young protégé.

The elf smiled, stretching his left hand to pat the side of the massive gold dragon against whose expansive chest they both sat, observing the knot of warriors below in the training field.

"Aye, she's amazing, isn't she? I wish I had four more like her."

"You still haven't told me who she is and why only four? Why not a score more?" the man asked.

"Ha! I would give away my left hand for a score like her! But that is an impossibility, the lass is a one in a million phenomenon and I won't find another like her even if I spend a lifetime searching," the elf said, chuckling in delight. His blue eyes shone in mischief as his friend's grey ones widened in comical stupefaction as the girl they were watching performed an aerobatic maneuver that should have been impossible for anyone who didn't wings.

She had been surrounded by all four of her sparring partners, all of whom were experienced warriors of the elven nation. One of them stepped forward and in a flash of glittering steel slashed at her from high and left; the girl shifted her body to the left, stepping into the attack and kicked the poor elf away. She smashed the flat of her blade against the knee of a second opponent, driving him to his knees before punching him in the jaw sending him sprawled to the dusty floor, out cold.

In the meanwhile, a third elf, this one a blond giant had maneuvered behind her and came up quickly, catching her in a head lock, the edge of his blade taut against her throat. It seemed the fight was over as yet another she-elf approached the girl, her sword casually dangling at her side. The raven haired girl's emerald eyes narrowed and as soon as the other she-elf got close enough, she lashed out, kicking her viciously in the chest, using the momentum to flip herself and pirouette over the man holding her, kicking him in the back as she descended behind him…. All of this while wearing a full suit of mail armor…

The elf, Oromis turned to his friend, "Close that mouth of yours, Tenga. It's unbecoming of you," he rebuked. "For the love of Auriel, you're a Greybeard, damn it!" That got the old man's attention and he complied.

"By the way," Oromis added in a low voice, "that girl is Arya Drottningu" and Tenga resumed his early befuddled expression.

* * *

 _Raven's Perch, the Frontier, 23_ _rd_ _May, 1901 T.E_

A sharp whistle pierced through the din of clashing steel and moaning and screaming men as Roran swung his axe down on the man in front of him, cleaving through his armor and flesh; he wrenched his battle-axe free, moving ahead, towards the seemingly endless stream of enemy soldiers rushing out of the keep, screaming at them in their guttural foreign tongues.

He looked around as his men rushed forward to meet them- heavy, choking black smoke hung all around the ancient castle, whose walls the dragons had brought down early on in the assault. That had been a sight to see- Dragon fire! As bright as the sun and hotter than the hottest furnace! The shrutu'ugalar had proven to be invaluable assets in all of the battles thus far…. The castles ringing the frontier were the last enemy territories and were proving to be the toughest to take back…. They had taken three castles so far, starting from the one on the border of Du Weldervarden and proceeding westwards….he knew very well that as they got closer to the Spine. It would become increasingly difficult to successfully besiege the castles… He shuddered to think of taking back the Spire, built as it was at the top of a mountain, the second highest mountain citadel…after High Hrothgar! He only hoped that his men lived to see peace…

He thanked Eragon a thousandth time as his axe cleaved through the wooden door blocking door their way into the keep… that axe had saved his life and those of his men several times over already. That led to him to wonder how his cousin-brother was and where he was… The last he had heard, Eragon outranked him- the lad was already senior tribune! He had a full cavalry cohort under his command- fully three hundred heavy cavalry- the first of its kind! He had served admirably- with the senior officers extremely pleased- destroying the army the Outlanders had sent through the forest to encircle and enter their kingdom from the South and had proceeded to secure the entirety of the Southern Frontier. What had Roran worried was the recent news that the Urgals had suddenly invaded from the west, enveloping their territory…they were being attacked on two fronts simultaneously- only the forests were open to convoy routes and thankfully the elves allowed all supplies to pass through. High Command was up in arms about the Urgal invasion- they were worried that the Urgals and the Outlanders were in an alliance….

The inner curtain wall- the one which had been blocking their progress- suddenly collapsed as the Rider smashed a golden spell into it- cracking its foundations and causing the entirety of the wall to cave inwards- this castle was as good as won- seven more to go..

* * *

 _High Hrothgar, the Spine, 25_ _th_ _May, 1901 T.E Sunrise_

The world certainly looked much more vast and beautiful from the watchtower, the old sage thought as he observed the sun rise over the eastern plains….. Here, at the roof of the world, very little disturbed the peace and quiet of their meditative contemplation. But recent events in the north had him worried, shadows were gathering over the northern wastelands, an ancient force was rising again, one that had been long forgotten by most. Arngeir was greatly concerned but hesitated to raise any alarms…. He had only suspicions, nothing concrete at all….

Then the calm of his roost was shattered by the unmistakable percussive beats of an approaching dragon….and a massive dragon too! Arngeir rose from where he had been kneeling and headed down the long winding stairs to the courtyard outside…. There he saw his master, the Wise One descend from his home at the peak of the very mountain.

"Lok thu'um, Paarthunax thuri," Arngeir bowed in greeting.

"Su'um arkh morah, Arngeir," the grey dragon intoned, his deep voice rumbling as his Voice caused a minor swirl to form in the snow…. A mere hint of the power in the Voice of the ancient being.

"My brother has returned from his self-imposed fustiroz, his exile."

Arngeir paled as his worst fears were confirmed.

"We must warn the Shrutu'ugalar….they have no idea of the terror about to descend on all of Nirn!"

"NID!" the dragon all but roared…. He brought down his humongous head to look at Arngeir in the eye…."the Shrutu'ugalar have traitors in their midst… we must prepare on our own…. Do not worry overmuch….this time I feel that we can defeat my brother once and for all…Dovahkiin lost daal… the Dragonborn has also returned!"

* * *

 _A Dark Cave, somewhere in the Spine…_

Eragon knew not how long he had spent in the captivity of the foul creatures who had kidnapped him and his men…. He had observed, helpless, in growing horror and revulsion as the two dark beings had slowly devoured his men, alive, one after the other….by some great misfortune, he was the last…. He would have preferred to have been the first to go…. Instead of having to watch his men get killed in the most undeserving fashion…

Even now, one of the two black-feathered creatures in the cave's entrance pecked out the eyes of one of his men, he knew not which, preferring not to know, chuckling and gurgling with delight as another pecked at his thigh which lay sliced open, bare to the bone.

"Succulent, succulent marrow!" the second one clicked, it's voice a sharp high pitched cackle…. Eragon watched on in abject horror as it reached out with cruel talons and tore apart the man's leg, parting the flesh to reveal the bone.

He knew very well what these creatures were… Ra'zac- vile monsters who preyed upon men. What he couldn't understand was how did he and his men end up in this precarious mortal danger in the first place…

That he would deal with later, Eragon decided. He needed to get out of this hellish place and return to his camp, he only hoped that he could do so before it was too late….

 _Two days later…._

I don't know why, but the Ra'zac haven't so much as scratched me….they haven't fed me either…but they have given me water rather rugularyly…. It seems as if they are working on someone's orders and are waiting for their employer to come and collect me…. I don't know what to think about it…..

Another thing that I have noticed is that on the rare infrequient occasions that I manage to let sleep consume me… I dream, the dreams are slowly gaining shape and surprisingly sound….it is as if someone is trying to reach me…. To tell me something… I know in my soul that these dreams? Visions? Are of vital importance… I just hope that the meaning becomes clear before it is too late…

 _A day later…._

The Ra'zac were far too chattery and excited when Eragon woke up for his liking…. It seemed that they were expecting something or someone with great eagerness and expectation…. The thought that is could be whomever they were working for was a disconcerting one for sure… If Eragon was to escape, today would be the last chance to do so….

With that thought in mind, Eragon decided to make use of the lessons that his dreams had imparted upon him… ever since he joined the Legions, Eragon had been visited by strange of dreams, initially he could recall nothing on returning to the land of the living; but relatively recently, that is, since his posting to Ivarstead, the dreams had sharpened, their mystical contents revealed, only for Eragon to reel back in shock and disbelief… So vastly preposterous were the dreams, in fact, that while he was completely mesmerized in them while asleep, he refused to so much as acknowledge them while awake, burying them deep in his consciousness.

But now, kidnapped and imprisoned with death the most likely fate, Eragon was willing to clutch at any and all floating straws, no matter how preposterous they had once seemed to him…..

Eragon recalled the first time the hazy and distorted dreams had crystallized into the hard truth that would come to change the course of his life forever.

 _14_ _th_ _March, 1901 T.E_

 _Eragon had always known it in his heart that Garrow and Mariam, while loving and affectionate, ewre not his birth-parents…but still to a ten year old, a mother's passing to be coupled with the news that your mother isn't actually your mother is an event of unimagined heartbreak and grief._

 _He always wondered why his dreams would always start off with that particular night more than a decade ago when Aunt Mariam had died and he had learned his real mother's name… Selena._

 _She had been a powerful mage- in service with the Shrutu'ugalar…. While her brother was a senior officer in the Legions._

 _Garrow didn't have the faintest clue who Eragon's father had been…. Selena was far above him in the Social and Military hierarchy of the Riders, despite his own high rank of Legate. She, on the other hand, had risen to be a famed mage, her prowess was legendary even among the Elven battlemages._

Eragon's question of who his father was would be answered in that first dream…..

 _His dreamscape flowed and shifted in a swirl of colors and landscapes until quite suddenly, it stopped and Eragon found himself beside a large lake…it was night time and the calm silvery surface of the lake reflected the beautiful sky…lit up by a thousand myriad colors as aurorae danced across the constellations, a soft gentle breeze blew, the waist high grass on the lake-banks swaying gently, the scent of night-blooming flowers wafted through the air. Eragon was sure it was paradise…._

 _He barely had time to study his surroundings when a soft bluish-white light engulfed the shore of the lake… blinding him, but not causing any pain… the light soon faded revealing a majestic figure, clad in what appeared to be liquid silver armor….the person was very tall, easily a head taller than Eragon's six-foot tall frame. As Eragon approached the shoreline, the latter removed his helm and turned to look Eragon in the eye. He was struck by the strange being's face….it was not human, or elven or any other race that he knew of…rather seemed….predatorial. The moonlight had painted his skin a soft silvery white…making Eragon conclude that he was fair skinned, the being's loose black locks gently wafted in the breeze, and as Eragon approached, he could feel the extremely strong aura that he was emanating, it was extremely powerful….hundreds, if not thousands of times more powerful than any dragon-rider pair he had ever met. Yet, he didn't feel threatened, quite the opposite infact, he felt protected and warm as if nothing could ever touch him while he was in the presence of the being._

 _Realization dawned upon him, he was in the presence of one of the Divines, of the Aedra….No Daedra could give him this feeling of being protected… He was in the presence of Akatosh himself!_

 _Eragon immediately kneeled, bowing his head in reverence to the Chiefest and greatest of the Pantheon… only for strong hands to grasp him by the shoulders and gently guide him up._

" _My children do not bow to me, Eragon," Akatosh spoke, His voice washing over him like a wave, calming his restive heart and bringing him peace._

" _My Lord, I have no words to describe how honored I am to be able to gaze upon you… I am not certainly worthy….," Eragon stammered out._

 _Akatosh smiled. A brilliant dazzling expression that had Eragon smiling as well._

" _It was high time I visited you, my child…you were born of my blood and soul, you are doomed, Eragon, doomed to face the greatest threat to Nirn in this era…. Doomed to fight your eldest brother, doomed to die by his hand or to kill him."_

 _Eragon was mightily confused, what was the Lord Akatosh talking of….he was doomed? To fight the greatest threat to all of Nirn? What was this threat and why would he have to fight Roran of all people?_

" _You misunderstand me, Eragon….you are my child, quite literally… You are Dovahkiin… born of my blood and blessed by all Pantheon… you will have to fight your eldest brother, Alduin."_

" _Alduin?" Eragon asked, shocked. "The world eater, himself?"_

" _Do not worry, overmuch, Eragon…your path will become clear in time. Return to your sleep now, child and rest."_

* * *

 **SO… What do you think? Like the chapter, hate it? Review and tell me…..**


	6. Chapter 6: Fate

**AN: Chapter 6 is up! Thank you everyone for the reviews.. really appreciate them but would love to see more.. I always appreciate positive criticism of all forms. Moving on, the chapter introduces several concepts which are heavily borrowed from the elder scrolls universe which I will explain below.**

 **The Aedra: divine beings who have helped influence and shape the plane of mortals: Nirn, in this doing of theirs, they lost much of their power and are thus unable to directly influence events. Worshipped by men, elves, dwarves and dragons.**

 **The Daedra: otherworldly beings who didn't participate in the creation of Nirn, and are therefore not worshipped. Extremely powerful and regularly intervene in history. Most are evil and scorned upon by the mortals….. except a notable few who will feature in the story in later chapters.**

 **The pantheon of the Gods will be covered later.**

 **I'll introduce the two mentioned in this chapter…**

 **Akatosh… Chiefest and greatest of the Aedra… father of all Dragons and God of Time. Worshipped by the Elves and Men to a smaller extent.**

 **Talos: born in Atmora as Hjalti, a mercenary who migrated to Alagaesia and served in the Army of the North. Was among the earliest known Dragonborn… formed the Septim Empire, the first empire to unite all of Alagaesia and drove away the much hated Aldmer, High Elves to their home islands. Later, rose to join the Gods as the Ninth Divine.. Talos.**

 **Atmora: a small frozen wasteland far to the north of Alagaesia, a separate continent, once home to the Nordic people who later migrated to Alagaesia under the leadership of Ysgrammor and his Five Hundred Companions.**

 **That is it for this chapter… Read on and enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Fate**

 _3_ _rd_ _November, 1881 of the Third Era._

 _Doru Araeba, Capital of Vroengard Islands._

Heavy monsoon rains lashed down, as strong gusts blew through the wide streets, the eerie noise of whistling winds filling her ears as she strode confidently towards the Hall of Prophecies, the small bundle in her arms, squirming against her chest…. Her vision was strangely refracted by the bubble of magic that protected her and the child against the lashing rain.

'Bloody Riders! Why do they have to build such vast streets!' she cursed mentally, the strain of the last few days finally catching up with her. As she passed the massive buildings on either side of the massively wide road, curious draconic eyes peered at her, wondering at the strange sight of a mother risking her child in such ghastly weather….

Even the roaring rain and the thundering clouds couldn't drown the sound of a dragon's wingbeats as one flew down to the road to walk alongside the woman… She looked up gratefully and thanked the mighty being.

"Thank you so very much, Umaroth-elda," she spoke from the shelter of the white giant's right wing.

"My pleasure, Lady…. If I may ask, what drives you to risk the young one in such nasty weather?", the old one asked, his su'um, his breath coming out in great billows of steam…

"I had a terrible dream about the baby, my friend, and I wish to consult the Seer about him…. His horoscope is also yet to be made and I would request her to make his…."

"Hmmm.. I sense a great power sleeping in the child's breast… it would be very interesting to see what fate holds for him." Umaroth said, peering at the young brown haired babe….

"Please don't hold back, tell me what is it that you sense in him," the mother pleaded.

"Let me put it this way, this babe is not just your son, he is my Elder….and kin to all dragons…. We have reached the Hall of Prophecies and here I must leave you. Farewell Lady Selena and farewell, young one."

Without giving the woman a chance to reply, the great white dragon, stepped back and flapping his wings hard against the heavy moist air, flew off.

 _A few minutes later…._

"Ah! Selena! Finally..! What took you so long? Bunnies stopped you?" the curly-haired herbalist asked from the archway leading into the Hall of Prophecies' main galleries.

Selena smiled, relieved to have something to divert her mind from what the dovah had told her…. She followed the mysterious witch into the main gallery, her breath hitching as it did every time she had the chance to gaze upon the magnificence of this particular hall… Built from soft-toned sandstone, the walls were covered by thousands upon thousands of ceiling-to-floor tapestries, each one the subject of one particular prophecy…. The ones which had been completed were the most beautiful, the people and events depicted in the tapestry were alive, in motion, describing the events and the lives affected by the prophecy…. The ones which were yet to fructify were darkened, its contents a myriad and cloudy mix of colors and shadows… Some whose predictions had come to light and yet incomplete were partially shown… perhaps the main people were revealed or perhaps the place concerned… while the rest would be in shadows. The witch was leading her towards one of the less-frequented galleries… prophecies so old…that they predated the riders themselves…some going as far back as the First Era or even beyond… the Mythic Era….

"Where are you taking me, Angela?" Selena asked.

"You'll see…." She said, giving her a coy smile.

Intrigued, she followed her for the next few minutes, walking deeper into the hall, keenly observing the tapestries. In a way, they were travelling back through time, going through the events of previous eras, the fall of the Septim dynasty with Martin Septim's sacrifice, the creation of the Shrutu'ugal, the Dragon War and Alduin's banishment among many, many others. But they didn't stop, in fact, the hall seemed to continue so much farther, that the end wasn't even visible…..

 _How far does this hall go? How old is the oldest prophecy in here?_ Selena wondered.

Her wondering was interrupted by Angela. "Have you agreed upon a name for the child?" she asked.

Selena smiled, "no, not yet…Brom wants an old Atmoran name while I prefer an elven one, they sound so much better!"

Angela laughed heartily, "you'll decide on a good one eventually, I'm sure. Ah! Here we are!"

She opened the double doors to a side room and gestured at her to follow. The room inside was large and roomy, the walls not covered in moving tapestries, but paintings of various Lords and Warriors of the last two ages…. The furnishing were rather informal, the room was clearly intended for relaxation and casual discussions, something that suited their purposes. Angela had already set up on a low table between two comfortable sofas. She sat on one of them and silently waved Selena into the other.

"So, what is it that made you ask for my help, and so urgently in this ungodly weather, might I add?"

"I'm worried for my baby, Angela; strange dreams have recently filled my mind and now Umaroth himself said something very cryptic. All is ask is you read his future, so that, at the very least I can prepare for it."

Angela could see that the mother was extremely worried… whatever these dreams were and whatever the white one had said had her panicked and that was no easy task…. Selena was not known as Nightshade for no reason. She had done horrifying things in her years of service and had things which would have made most riders piss in their pants… for her to be so worried….

Sighing, she nodded, "I will write his horoscope, but do not ask me to use my dragon knuckles…. It is extremely dangerous to read those for someone who isn't even a year old…..the effect of the reading would be far reaching and harrowing in their result." She said this quite sternly, refusing to budge on her position.

"I wouldn't have asked you for that, anyway….they certainly inverted my life upside down when you read them for me," Selena said, smiling ruefully.

"I won't say 'I told you so' but I damn well did," the witch added with a small sad smile.

"When was he born and at what hour?"

"The 22nd October of this year….just before midnight."

"That is….. that's interesting to hear. How long before midnight?" Angela said, an odd spark glimmering in her dark eyes.

"Fifteen minutes or so, why?"

"We'll get to that later. First, I must refer these," she drew a large astronomical chart from her satchel and unfolding it, spread it upon the table.

The chart was beautiful, filled with the various constellations as they appeared in the night sky. Selena could see the elven runes carved into the sides glowing a light blue. "An elven starchart! Why doesn't this surprise me? Only you can be bold enough to borrow an elven starchart from the library at Ellesmera, Angela!"

She didn't reply, focused as she was on arranging the runes as per the child's birth time. "The babe's birth constellation is interesting. Most people are born under one constellation…. He is born under the confluence of two… the Warrior and the Lord constellation! Unusual, but not unheard of… moving on…hmm… any person's birthtime is of vital importance because it tells me about the aedra or perhaps daedra who have influence on the said person's life…. Your son was born fifteen minutes before midnight on the 22nd of October, right?"

Selena nodded… unsure of where the curly-haired seer was going with this.

She smiled, "he is blessed indeed, he was born at the precise moment when Akatosh was reigning over the Lord Stone while Lord Talos ruled over the Warrior Stone. It is extremely rare for this particular combination to occur simultaneously... so very rare that it has occurred precisely nine times before with him," she gestured at the peacefully sleeping babe, "being the tenth one."

"But what does it mean?" Selena asked, I've heard of how Lord Akatosh ruling over one of the signs is an indicator that the child would almost surely be a rider, but what about Talos? And both of them together on two signs as powerful as the Lord and the Warrior?"

"If you must know, the presence of Lord Talos is an indication of a ruler of some kind, of a leader, especially in conjunction with one of the more powerful signs… but this particular combination means only one thing…..Lord Akatosh in the sign of the Lord means that HE will be the Divine who will dictate the life of the child… he is the spiritual child, if you will, of Akatosh and Talos' presence in the sign of the Warrior means that the child will be a great one, one as gifted as Talos had been when he was Tiber Septim."

Selena's eyes widened as she realized exactly what Angela was saying, "but that means, that means that he is… he is"

"Aye, he is Dragonborn, just like Tiber Septim had been, he is Ysmir, Dragon of the North and heir to the Stormcrown…! Selena, take him away from here, hide him somewhere where the world won't find him, there are many others, especially dragons, who will recognize him the moment they see him."

"But why, do you think he is in danger, here? In the city of the Shrutu'ugal?"

"He is at the greatest danger here! The riders have grown far too fond of their power and dominion over others… the return of the Dragonborn would mean an abrupt and absolute end of their supremacy. Many would welcome the return of Akatosh's heir, but many more would do anything to prevent his rise…. Can you imagine the like of Formora and Kialandi welcoming his rise?"

Selena shook her head, suddenly overwhelmed by the threat her child faced. She gazed at the paintings around her, her mind wandering, seeking a place where she could raise her babe in peace and seclusion…. Carvahall, with her brother. The Legate would make sure nothing ever happened to him…. Her eyes fell on the painting of the First Rider, Lord Eragon who had brought peace between Dragon, Elf and Man…. In a way, her son would be like him, the first Dragonborn of the Third Era.

Her beautiful blue eyes hardened as she gazed upon her child, "I'll take him to Carvahall, to my brother. I know you won't speak of this to anyone…", Angela nodded, "but I have decided on a name for him; he is Eragon Bloodborne."

"Bloodborne? I don't understand?"

"My blood is that of old Ysgrammor himself…. We are the descendants of the ancients who came here from Atmora thousands of years ago…. We have always been gifted, our magic stronger, our hands and feet faster, our lives longer… and now he bears the soul of a dragon and carries the same blood that once beat through Hjalti…. So, yes, he is Bloodborne!"

Angela could only nod, "aye, Bloodborne indeed." Angela closed her eyes before raising her hands, palms facing towards the newly christened child, glowing with soft white light, "Eragon Dovahkin, Bloodborne and Ysmir, I bless thee, may you never face an insurmountable challenge, may all your difficulties only make you stronger and may you have a bright and happy future."

The glow intensified for a moment, growing so bright that to an outsider, it would have seemed that a small sun had descended into the room… before it faded, leaving a visibly tired witch and a giggling brown haired babe. Selena would often later swear that in the fraction of a moment before the glow had intensified, she had seen something else in Angela, not the curvy, irrepressible witch that she had known, but a beautiful, majestic lady, with pointy ears and hair like starlight.

* * *

" _What is fire, my friend?"' the seasoned warrior asked, his unseeing grey eyes staring unnervingly dead straight into his own brown ones. Eragon was confused, 'what is fire indeed?'._

" _I wouldn't know…. Fire is fire, I suppose, a forest fire renews life, burning away the dead and rotting vegetation, so it is a cleansing agent… but fire also destroys…. I don't know." Eragon concluded lamely._

 _The old warrior laughed heartily, his shape morphing, changing, flowing into that of a large, ancient grey dragon…..the wings tattered, his horns broken and his scales weathered and yet the eyes…. They remained the same._

" _Yol," the great dragon began, "in your tongue, the word simply means fire- it is change given form, power at its most primal. That is the true meaning of yol- sulyek-power. You have it, as do all dov. But power is inert without action and choice; think of this as the fire builds in your su'um- in your breath- su'um arkh morah. What will you burn, what will you spare?"_

Eragon opened his eyes, the world inside the dark, musty cave was just as it had been for the last week or so. He was a captive of his own fear, of his own weakness…. But he was Dovahkin- Dragonborn! A dragon fears none for what is stronger on earth than the mighty dov.

A great anger surged from within, his eyes blazed with a desire to avenge his men, his brothers in arms, to free himself and to teach this pitiful birds the true meaning of fear. Eragon rose from his hunched up position at the corner and strode forward determined to end this immediately.

One of the Ra'zac was asleep while the other stood guard facing the cave's entrance. It heard him, or perhaps smelled him, Eragon knew not nor did he particularly care, for it turned to face him and screeched in angry surprise, its high pitched screams driving Eragon angrier. The creature's black breath which had paralysed him only a few days previously had no effect on him.

It drew a wickedly curved sword and approached him, waking the other. Eragon smiled, a cold, cruel smile as the two lined up perfectly…. Eragon unleashed the fire within opening his maw as he roared, "YOL TUUR SHUL!"

A blazing inferno consumed the pitiful creatures, drowning their screams in the roar of power….

* * *

 **The dragon language is called Dovahzul, literally the Dragon-Tongue**

 **The following words of the Dovahzul were used in this chapter**

 **Su'um: breath**

 **Docahkin: Dragonborn**

 **Yol: Fire**

 **Sulyek: power**

 **Su'um arkh morah: breath and focus**

 **Dovah: dragon, dov: dragons**

 **Please rate and review and tell me how you found the chapter.**


	7. Chapter 7: Calm Before the Storm

**AN: I am so extremely sorry for not being able to post any new chapters for so long. Several things intervened to prevent my timely posting…. Not least of which is my cousin's marriage… Indian weddings are so complicated!**

 **Anyway, here we are. This chapter was written in a huddle and isn't as polished as it should have been….**

 **Thank you so much for the reviews and the support, much appreciated!**

 **Do continue to review and tell me how you find the chapters!**

Chapter 7: Calm before the Storm

"My lord," the charming, raven haired youth kneeled in front of the most powerful being he had ever been in the presence of.

The being turned to stare at him, his red eyes, pits of hellish fire, gazed at the man with indifference.

"I sent Morzan to retrieve the prisoner….," the man gulped, he was quite powerful himself, but it was barely a spark compared to the dragon's furnace.

"Do continue," the dragon said, his pleasing baritone voice a masque for a ruthless predator….

"The prisoner was nowhere to be found and the Ra'zac," the man hesitated, " Morzan said that the Ra'zac had been burned to ashes…. The walls of the cave around the area had become glazed, like glass."

"So," the dragon spoke, "the lad has awoken to his inheritance. Very well! Events are proceeding apace…" the dovah drew himself to his full height, "we will continue with our plans inspite of this hiccup. In fact," he brought his head down to level with the man, who hastily stumbled backwards from the razor sharp teeth that had so suddenly invaded his personal space, "the time has come to tear apart the order; I'll instruct my priests to leave the Northerners alone, for now. They are far too stubborn and fierce to be defeated quickly. Indeed, it is us who have been losing so far."

The man nodded, "the Urgals are awaiting our orders."

"Tell them that the invasion has been prepended. Now go and pray that you do not fail this time."

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Eragon to recover his armor and sword and those of his companions. The Ra'zac had a kind of armory room- filled with weapons and armor and valuable trinkets. In one corner of the dug-out room, he discovered a rack of several quivers, all of them filled with sharp arrows and beside them- a bow, the strongest he had ever seen- it apparently was made from bone and looked at first glance quite heavy- given its thickness and width. Yet it was incredibly light and at the same time incredibly strong on the pull. His muscles were stretched in new and awkward ways as he pulled on the drawstring.

It was when he saw the mark on the inside- a dragon stylized as a rhombus- di d he realize just exactly what he held in his hands.

"This, this is a dragonbone bow!," he exclaimed, reverently running his hands along the outer edge, marveling at the smoothness of the white bone, "forged in the Sky-Forge in the ancient city of Whiterun during the First War against the World Eater." The bow was of a double recurve design, with three longitudinal ridges midway through each arm- for extra strength.

As a smith himself, he knew just how rare and valuable any weapon of the Second Era was, but this bow was even rarer… Very few sets of dragonbone weapons were ever made. The smith who forged them- Kodlak Whitmane- had been given three complete dragon skeletons by the warriors of the age. Three otherwise young and immature dragons, though certainly no less deadly than their elder brethren.

He had been mightily surprised to find himself high up in the Urgal badlands of the Spine. He had already had several close calls with several roving patrols…. The entire thing was very confounding. From what Eragon knew of the Urgals, and he knew them very well – uncle Garrow had himself forged an unorthodox alliance with the Bolvek tribe – the Urglas fought with each other even more than with other races. But these patrols, they were a mix of several different tribes, if the banners were any indication. The mobilization of so many different tribes worried Eragon. A much larger game was afoot, he felt sure of it.

There was only one thing to do… stay low and make it to friendly territory as quickly as humanly possible.

* * *

 _The Citadel,_

 _Doru Araeba_

 _Vroengard Islands_

"Our forces are already engaged here in the North. The entire frontier is in uproar. Entire legions! Legions! Of our forces have simply vanished, presumed destroyed in the immediate aftermath of this invasion! We simply do not have the numbers to both deal with the outlander invasion and assist the Brodding Kingdom with this Urgal invasion," Oromis elda said from the mirror that held his image to the Council of Elders and Vrael, Lord Commander of the Shrutu'ugal.

"The recent developments are most worrisome; the Urgals have clearly united to form a federation of sorts. We have no idea which of the several tribes has taken leadership, although Brom states that the Bolvek tribe remains an ally. What we do know is that the Urgals are marching straight for Illirea, systematically overwhelming critical castles and strongholds. The Brodding Kingdom's army has already suffered three humiliating defeats- their defensive lines have been overwhelmed…. I do not see how they will be able to successfully defend the city. We must deploy the rest of our forces to aid them- I need not tell you of the horrors the urgals will commit if they succeed," Kialandi coerced.

"And leave Doru Araeba defenceless? All of our forces that can be spared have been spared. We cannot risk leaving the Citadel defenceless… this entire thing smacks of a much larger conspiracy.. look at the sequence of events- our strongest forces, also incidentally the forces that can deployed most quickly were struck first in an unprecedented and unheard of event: an organized, systematic invasion by disciplined infantry in numbers that we didn't even know existed in the northern wastelands. While they are tied down- they circumvent through the elven nation and attack from the south- forcing us to deploy more of our riders. Now, this matter of an Urgal invasion attacking the Brodding Kingdom- drawing out more of our riders. If this is a larger conspiracy as I suspect it is, then all that has happened has been a massive diversion… and I shudder to think what would happen if we fell to this trap," Aeldarian, ambassador to the Elven Nation said.

"And yet I insist that we must help the Brodding Kingdom! We cannot fail our duties! The situation in the Northern Province has more or less stabilized with the threat now confined to the northern frontier. Surely, they could spare a few legions in the south to assist King Varys?" another suggested.

"No! I will not further weaken the Valley," Vrael interrupted the proceedings. He looked at Aeldarian, "contact Evandar Konungr and request him to lend a few divisions. Oromis- make sure that the North remains calm. The rest of us baring twelve riders will prepare to fly out to Illirea tomorrow."

The others nodded. Formora stood up and unsheathed her purple sabre before kneeling in front of the council. "I humbly request to be allowed to remain behind and defend the citadel."

Vrael nodded, "very well. You and one other elder shall remain behind. The others will be young riders and apprentices."

* * *

"It is done. The council flies out to Illirea tomorrow. Kialandi and Formora are already here in charge of the defences. The apprentices would be easily swayed. My son tells me that they are sympathetic to our cause," Morzan said to his leader.

Galbatorix smiled, his face slightly distorted in the mirror, "good work my friend. I'll arrive late in the night after tomorrow at the north western harbor. And our lord will be accompanying me."

Morzan's eyes widened in shock; that was an unexpected development!

* * *

He was tired, living off the land for one whole week had been more difficult than he could ever have foreseen. He had traversed close to a hundred miles- heading north east towards the distant visage of the tallest mountain in all of Alagaesia, the Throat of the World.

The bow had been a godsend- it allowed him to hunt the large elks that thrived in the mountain forests- and keep himself relatively warm and well fed.

At night when he had nothing to do but attempt to rest and sleep, his thoughts would invariably turn to his newly discovered heritage. It was a lot to take in… he was dovahkin, DragonBorn! He was following the steps of Tiber Septim himself, he was brother to all of the elder dragons- the few who had been created directly by Akatosh.

He did not notice that there had been some changes in him, ever since he had made peace with his dragon side… His senses, for one, were much sharper, he was also noticeably stronger and faster- the damned bow was certainly easier to pull!

He did realize that the fire ball he had released at the Ra'zac was a direct result of his emotional state and that he had spoken in the DivahZul- the dragon tongue… Despite that, he hadn't discovered a sudden fluency in the said tongue. Sometimes when he concentrated long enough at a thought or an object, the dovahzul language would echo in his mind and he would learn it….He wondered if he could somehow accelerate this process of learning and perhaps increase his knowledge of shouts…. It was a dreadfully useful skill to have.

* * *

 _Carvahall_

 _Rider's Residence_

"Arya, my child, come and have a sit," the old rider gestured towards a seat in his office.

Said maiden gracefully bowed and crossed the space between the door and the proffered chair. "I came as soon as I learned that you had an important task for me. How may I be of use, elda?"

Oromis smiled at his apprentice's impatience to be out in the field. He gestured towards the other man in the room, "may I introduce Master Tenga, an old friend and a member of the Greybeards."

Aryagasped in shock and Oromis smiled, Tenga was quite capable of hiding his life force to the point of near invisibility, even to elven senses… Arya immediately got up and bowed to the latter.

Tenga smiled, "it is a rare pleasure to meet you child."

"Master Tenga and I have learnt of troubling new developments… We would ask your help in solving a taxing quandary," Oromis said.

"We, that is Oromis-elda and the Greybeards feel that the recent events- the Outlander's invasion and now this attack by Urgals is all part of a larger scheme that seeks to undo the very fabric of our civilization here in Alagaesia… to what end, we do not know yet nor are we sure of who is behind the entire thing…."

"The good news is", Oromis spoke," a dragonborn has revealed himself. This has been confirmed by the master of the Greybeards and just a week ago he revealed his location. The problem is…"

"He is a senior tribune in the Nothern Army, the 2nd Cohort of the Twentieth I believe," Tenga put in.

Arya's eyes widened in recognition, "I have heard of him, Ellander was speaking of him, one of the Bloodborne, is he not? The youngest senior tribune ever and a master cavalry officer.. he was responsible for stopping the outlanders from surrounding the Valley and securing the Southern frontiers."

"Yes, you are correct. His name is Eragon, and he is one of the Bloodborne, as you say. Most of his cohort was wiped out in a massive Urgal attack some weeks ago and he went missing. We were unable to trace him or even scry him, something was preventing us from doing so. But ever since last week, he became once more visible to us," Oromis added.

"And you wish for me to find him and bring him here," Arya asked.

"We would be extremely grateful to you if you obliged, yes. He is quite capable a warrior and we're reasonably sure that he will make his way here unharmed but we wish to send you to speed him up and to make sure, just in case," Tenga said.

"Knowing his father, I wouldn't be surprised if trouble finds him before long, " Oromis added with a small chuckle.

Arya nodded. "Do you have any idea about where he is right now?"

* * *

 **So how did you find the story? Tell me in your reviews!**


	8. Chapter 8: Whiterun

**AN: Hi guys! A very happy new year to all of you! Thank you all for those who reviewed….**

 **This chapter is longer than my usual chapters… but more of a filler actually… not that happy with it, really.**

 **Tell me how you found the chapter.**

 **Chapter 8: Whiterun**

Murtagh was worried… he understood where his father came from and what he wished for himself and him…. He had himself witnessed the decadence and corruption that had spread through the order, sapping morale and ambition among the riders.

"We are the mightiest and most powerful warriors in all of Alagaeisa!," his father had stated, anger filling his voice, "and what do we do with this power? Police the roads and kingdoms like beat cops!"

"We should be lords and rulers in our own right, above the pettiness of lowly _kings_! Our elders bicker and spat as the kingdoms engage in proxy wars, as drought and famine devastate the countryside, as marauders and pirates rule the roads and waterways. We can bring order and rule to these pathetic mortals, we can bring about peace in our time. It is our moral duty to do so!"

Indeed, his father's words had had a rousing effect in Murtagh and he had vowed to become better, stronger in every possible way. And today he had finally gotten a chance to serve their cause. He had been spreading his father's message throughout his fellow apprentices and most had become like-minded. Tonight, Lord Galbatorix would return form his forced exile and lead them to their destiny!

* * *

He knew not what drew him to the Throat of the World so intensely, but did know that it was a safe haven and closer than any other alternative place, certainly closer than any questions of their bases in the valley. He walked silently through the high altitude forests, the sun weakly shining through the pine trees. It was a struggle to survive every night with the temperature dropping to well before freezing. He had so far been able to build a fire every night and that coupled with meat from the animals he hunted had saved his life. The dragonbone bow was truly a godsend…. It was slow going however, the reality of survival meant that he could only travel during the daytime, but that also meant that he had to carefully avoid the many predators who called the forests their home, since they too, were active during the daytime. However he did notice that the animals had a natural proclivity to leave him alone, for the most part.

He was currently walking uphill and was nearing the crest of the cliffl; he had hoped to be able to see the valley below him for miles and chart a course to the mountain. And indeed, when he did crest the cliff, he was confronted by a beautiful vista…. The valley stretched out before him, painted green and gold by the spring with the White river snaking its way through the valley, appearing like a sliver of molten silver under the sun's weak light. In the distance, at the horizon, the Throat of the World rose for miles into the sky, like a beacon, a lighthouse guiding him home.

Eragon took a few deep breaths, taking time to enjoy the beauty of the deadly landscape. The route that he had to take was rather obvious, he simply had to descend into the valley and reach the river after which he could follow it all the way to the mountain.. there were two waterfalls that he would have to cross, but he felt that the obstacles weren't insurmountable. He reckoned it would take three more days to reach the mountain, if all went well.

* * *

"The Urgals will not know what hit them. i have asked the empire's army to deploy itself along the river's northern bank, in a classsical defensive position, in an effort to lure the Urgals into an ambush. The Urgals have demonstrated a surprisingly good knowledge of battle tactics and discipline, something that was severely lacking in all accounts of their previous rebellions," Aester spoke to the assembled group of riders and dragons under his command. this comment was overheard by the Lord Commander himself.

Vrael had always felt that something was extremely wrong with the whole Urgal situation, he just couldn't exactly say what it was... but this obvious truth about the Urgals' lack of knowledge of military tactics and dicsipline of any knid whatsoeverhad been taken for granted... but if what the Brodding army had reported was correct, then the Urgals had not only learnt the basis of military tactics but had become literal experts...often using baits and setting up ambushes... they had even executed perfect pincer traps. This was worrying development, giving credence to the Lord Aeldarian's belief that there was indeed something incrediblty fishy about the enitre invasion.

"My lord!" a runner came towards him from the castle, one of their youngest riders, "my lord," the lad had reached him, breathing heavily, "sir, Doru Araeba is under attack!"

* * *

Arya knew that Eragon, with his skills and experience in the wild, wouldn't think twice before deciding to take up shelter in the ruins of Whiterun on his way to the mountain. Thus, it made sense for her to await his arrival in the same ruins and meet up with him once he reached the ancient city.

When last she had scryed him, he was almost a day away from the city, meaning that she could reasonably expect him be the evening.

She decide to set up camp away form the main road, in one of the cottages close to the outer walls and await nightfall.

* * *

Eragon felt supremely confident that his goal of reaching the mountain was close at hand. Once there, he would contact Brom and return to his unit. Night was about to fall and he knew better than to travel through the dangerous terrain in darkness.

He looked for a suitable place to camp for the night, realising too late that he had passed several promising spots, but reluctant as he was to trace back his steps, he forged ahead.

Suddenly he broke through the outskirts of the pine forest and came upon a rather massive clearing… the forest appeared to continue in the distant horizon and the mountain still loomed in the distance… impossibly tall. What drew his attention was at the center of the plains, right on the banks of the White river; a moderately size hill with a ruined citadel on the top and tall walls which ran along the slopes all the way to the plains.

" _Whiterun!_ " Eragon whispered.

The ancient citadel looked mystical in the glow of the setting sun, painted golden and purple. The city was quite obviously in a decayed state- but that only added to its charm and mystique. Eragon felt his excitement and curiosity rise as he beheld the ancient city- which once held the throne of the High King of all of what then had been Skyrim, where the bow at his back had been forged millennia ago…. He knew that he couldn't not explore the ancient city- the fact that it would make for an excellent camping site was only incidental…

Nodding to himself, Eragon decided, it would indeed make a fine camping place and set out to cross the open ground between here and the walls as quickly as possible. Everything was fading away into darkness as the sun slowly set and Eragon's progress slowed down… it wouldn't do to stumble in the rough terrain and break his leg, or worse his neck.

 _Sometime later…._

It was early evening- the moon had come about two thirds up in the night sky, casting a milky glow over the world. Wild night blooms danced in the meadows, their sweet fragrance wafting in the cold breeze.

Eragon shivered slightly; nights here were without exception long and cold; but that was of little import.. he was merely a stone's throw away from the main gates of the city. The city was entirely built on a hill. One face of the hill, the northern one, was a steep cliff at whose summit stood a citadel, from which the hill sloped down gently to meet the plains. Tall walls surrounded the city , but only the walls around the gate could be attacked, the rest were far too high, built as they were on an already elevated surface. The walls extended on either side of the drawbridge to surround the drawbridge, forming a killbox in front of the main gates.

Eragon was mightily impressed with the ancient city's fortifications- no wonder the ancient city had never fallen! Alas, the city's builders hadn't thought of dragons when they had built the fortifications.

The drawbridge had long since rotten away… a fast brook still ran through the stone canal below. Eragon refilled his canteen with the sweet glacial melt water before jumping up and grabbing the ledge.

The main gates still stood-leaning awkwardly- their iron hinges having rusted through long ago. The gates were huge, atleast thirty feet wide, double doored, made from ironwood most likely and reinforced with horizontal steel bands. They were slightly ajar, for which he was grateful… he knew very well that he didn't have the strength to pull them open.

Inside, Eragon was humbled by what he saw… the walls and the towers, they were largely intact but inside…all he saw was rubble and scorch marks… Centuries had passed since the dragons had razed this once proud city…but to Eragon, it felt as if mere days had passed since the attack… nothing grew within…not even the tiniest tuft of weed and grass.. Snow covered the small heaps of broken wood and charred stones that were once homes and businesses…. Nothing was left standing, as Eragon walked towards the distant summit, wondering how the city might have looked before the attack. Eragon shook his head…..the wanton destruction spoke volumes of the horrors his people had faced so many years ago… he quietly moved to an elevated part of the city.

The first thing that he saw was the beautiful giant tree that stood in the center of the square- he tree's trunk had twisted around itself as it rose thirty feet above the ground before spreading out into a massively wide canopy, filled with purple leaves… He recognised the tree- the Gildergreen, a symbol of the goddess Kynareth- his eyes remained glued to the tree as his legs, almost of their own will, dragged him closer. He reverently placed his palm on the trunk and then a breeze suddenly picked up- the leaves rustled and the branches swayed rhythmically, almost hypnotically and a motherly voice called out on the wind….

"Eragon Dovahkin," the voice whispered, " welcome my child."

He drew a sharp breath and stiffened immediately- for in that breath, he had picked up a whiff of pinecones and something else—something which gave him goosebumps.

* * *

She had been observing him very carefully ever since he had entered the city.

His appearance matched with what she had been seeing for the last few days while scrying , but she couldn't afford to be careless.

He moved powerfully, and yet gracefully, scarcely making any noise. She observed how his eyes would dart all over the place, carefully observing the city and its ancient fortifications- she was glad she had wiped off all her tracks magically otherwise he would have surely have noticed them.

She followed him as he ascended the stairs and then stilled in wonder at the sight of the Gildergreen, a reaction not dissimilar to her own….

She drew closer as Eragon came to a stop before the trunk and placed his palms on the tree…. She was very close now, barely seven feet behind him, invisible when the wind suddenly swirled and a voice whispered, full of love and power….

"Eragon Dovahkin, welcome, my child."

That took her completely by surprise and yet caused her to relax her defenses…. If Kynareth herself was acknowledging the man as Dovahkiin, who was she to doubt it?

Before she could think of doing anything she saw Eragon stiffen and then he whipped around, drawing his sword in a flash of glinting steel…

Arya herself froze in her crouched position… this was an unexpected development, how did he notice her? The invisibility spell was by no means perfect but the low light should've hidden her completely.

Eragon muttered, "Laas!" and she felt a wave of energy hit her and reflect back…

* * *

Eragon's eyes widened comically as his shout revealed a strong humanoid presence right in front of him.

He immediately raised his sword to deliver a powerful two handed chop at the person, but the figure rolled backwards and his sword missed by mere inches.

He hefted the blade to the left to strike at the crouched form but was stopped by a feminine voice, "Letta! I mean you no harm.." the figure shimmered for a moment before becoming visible and Eragon was surprised to see a she-elf. Somewhat relieved, he pointed his blade at her, "why were you spying on me if you mean me no harm?"

"Peace, friend. I was sent by both Oromis-elda and Tenga-elda to find you and to accompany you to High Hrothgar."

He carefully observed the woman…the elves were allies of the northern Province and her words had the ring of truth to them….

He sheathed his sword and she relaxed, standing up. She twisted her wrist over her sternum and bowed in the elven way of greeting, "I am Arya of the Blades." Eragon repeated the familiar gesture- he had after all met more tha enough elven rangers to know the greeting.

"Eragon, Senior Tribune of the Twentieth, my lady."

"Come, I've made camp nearby. We will rest for the night before resuming the journey at daybreak," she lad him right from the square and the tree to a building that he easily recognised from the descriptions that he had read in books as Jorrvaskr, the legendary mead hall of the Companions-the warriors who had accompanied Ysgrammor from Atmora millennia ago.

The building was remarkably well-preserved; constructed by inverting a large long boat and then raising it on stilts with wooden walls surrounding the strucuture. The detail work and the intricate carvings on the panels were extraordinarily beautiful even though the paint had long since faded. He had stopped and was staring at the building with a dumb look.

"What happened? Are you alright?", his guide asked.

"I am fine, … just overwhelmed by the moment," he smiled weakly at her. She raised an elegant eyebrow but simply nodded after a moment.

"Ever since I was a child, I've dreamt of coming here to the old capital of Skyrim- to be able to walk through the streets, to see the Gildergreen, to see Jorrvaskr, to see…." Eragon's expression changed from wonderment to one of complete astonishment as his eyes darted around, searching for anything that resembled what he had read in ancient books. He noticed a flight of stone steps to the right of the courtyard surrounding the mead hall which disappeared behind a stone buff that rose vertically from the hillside.

He gave a shout of delight and dashed towards the steps not even registering Arya's protests.

Arya cursed before following, her elven strength and speed meant that she easily caught up with him at the top of the stairs. She found him kneeling in front of a very large forge that had been adorned with a statue of a huge eagle, carved in soft-toned sandstone, rising above the hillside.

"What is this place?", Arya asked.

Eragon smiled at her, "this is the Sky-Forge, a legendary ancient forge of unknown origins from the Merethic Era… this is quite possibly the best forge in all of Alagaesia."

"What do you mean 'best forge'? What does a forge have to do with the quality of the pieces crafted? Isn't the smith more important?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, absolutely, the smith is extremely, vitally important… but the SkyForge is the only place known where a master smith can craft something like this-" Eragon replied, handing her the bow.

Arya took the offered weapons in her hands as Eragon slowly followed her down the flight of steps. She turned the bow over in her hands, it was very light and yet the drawstring took far greater strength than any other bow that she had ever used.

"What is this material?," she asked.

Eragon smirked at her, "dragonbone."

* * *

 _Doru Araeba, Vroengard Islands._

The air was heavy with the acrid stench of smoke and burning flesh…..

Thunder rolled over the tormented seas as brilliant flashes of colored light lit up the darkness of the menacing night.

Dragons flew everywhere- many were wild, others with riders. Fire! Dragon fire rained on all… the forests blazed in a fierce maelstrom of flashing heat…. The city had been long reduced to a pile of smoldering rubble… War had come to the riders.

The first to die were the many hundreds of warriors and mages in service with the Order… they were butchered mercilessly by the dov and the Forsworn, helplessly outnumbered and outmatched… most died before they even had a chance at defending themselves… killed in the first few terrible moments of sheer panic and confusion as Alduin destroyed the barracks and the fortifications.

Initially the wildings who roosted in Doru Araeba aided the defenders but when their leader, Fundor the Indomitable was slain- his wings torn apart, his throat crushed, his soul absorbed by Alduin… they fled… none had the temerity to challenge the eldest…

After that, it was a massacre….

* * *

 _Jorrvaskr, Whiterun_

Eragon finally got a good look at the elf who had 'rescued' him.

She was, in a word, drop dead gorgeous… doe eyes that glazed like clear emeralds, beautiful raven hair that seemed to cascade down her back, pouty full lips and high cheekbones… She was tall, almost his height, making her 5' 10'' or so and figure was extremely feminine, one which DIbella herself would be envious of… Eragon blushed and averted his eyes as she bent over the small hearth to place a cooking pot over the fire, her undershirt parting to reveal the beginnings of her honey colored mounds.. She was a warrior as well, given her toned body and the slim sabre that she carried at her waist alongwith the wickedly curved dagger at her back.

"Come on, I've made soup from what herbs and vegetables I gathered earlier from the forest.." she gestured at him with a come hither motion, smiling, revealing her milky white teeth.

He smiled in return and joined her at a low bench, partaking of the warm and nutritious, if bland soup… constantly aware of the heady fragrance of crushed pine cones.

Her ethereal beauty aside, Eragon keenly observed her equipment- padded leather armor and a pack with a short bow and a full quiver of arrows were all she carried; and of course the two blades on her person. He noticed a strange rune on her left shoulder but didn't know what it meant, though it seemed strangely familiar.

She must have formed her own opinion of him, he was sure and Eragon couldn't help but wonder what she thought of him.

"May I see your sword?," she asked, her sweet voice shattering through his thoughts.

He smiled, "only if I can see yours."

She smiled before unsheathing the sabre and handing it to him, as he surrendered his hand-and-half sword.

She traced her fingers through the double fuller that spanned two thirds of the 41" blade. The blade glinted and shone in the strong firelight and Arya knew instinctively that the blade was of high quality. The hilt was of a cruciform shape with long crossguards and made for two handed grip with a heavy lead pommel the size of an apple.

She rose and held the blade vertically high, noting the heavy weight of the sword as well as its fine balance. She swung it in an overhead chop and laughed in delight as the blade seemed to thrum with energy. Turning to Eragon, she found him keenly tracing the curve of the sabre with a soft smile.. his entire attention seemingly focused on the blade.

"You like it?," she asked. He simply nodded, "this is an extraordinarily fine sword… perfect steel, perfectly tempered and incredible balance. I don't know how to wield a sabre but I know that this is deadly."

"It had to be perfect. It was made by Rhunon, the elf-smith"

"-the elf-smith who has made all the riders' swords! This is beyond rare!" Eragon exclaimed.

Arya noticed the incredulous look on her companion's face and she remembered how he excited he had been at discovering the Sky-Forge and then her eyes turned to the blade in her hand.

"Wait a moment, you made this?" she asked, pointing to the sword in her hands.

He nodded and Arya couldn't fathom how… the sword in her hands was among the very best she had ever seen, it rivaled the work of the dwarves! And yet Eragon was only twenty two!

"This is an incredible blade, Eragon and I am frankly astonished that you…. This is a masterpiece!"

"Ah!", he waved away her compliments dismissively, "it isn't that impressive- the design is common enough. You should see the polehammer that I made for my cousin, now that is something!"

She simply shook her head at the tendency of the northern warriors to downplay their achievements- a rather endearing quality. "Enough chit chat, lets sleep and we'll resume our journey on the morrow."

Eragon looked around confused, "shouldn't we take turns at keeping watch?"

"Not required, I've warded the entire perimeter, so I'll know if someone or something approaches. Besides the doors are sealed with heavy timbers… no animal can come through."

"Its obvious you haven't fought ice trolls but fortunately- they rarely venture this far south. Alright, lets sleep."

* * *

 **Reviews please!**


	9. Chapter 9 : Interlude

**AN: an extremely IMPORTANT point… there are two races of dragons in this series they will be explained in detail in later chapters but here's a heads up…**

 **The dov: the eldest dragons, who were created by Akatosh himself… they are by and large far more powerful than the other dragons… are capable of using the dovahzul in greater variety and much higher strength.**

 **The dragons: these are descendants of the dov… born from mating between the dov; over generations their powers have waned… most dragons cannot use the dovahzul to the extent their ancestors can.**

 **While both races are immortal.. it is the dov who can come back from their death… their souls simply await in the aetherius, waiting for either Alduin or Paarthunax to recall them.**

 **Thank you again for the reviews… I really appreciate them… this chapter was written on a sudden whim and is in sharp contrast to what I had originally planned…. I don't know how this will end but my instincts have never led me astray….**

 **I hope you like this chapter… read on and enjoy…. And don't forget to review.**

 **Chapter 9 : Interlude**

 _Doru Araeba, the Citadel_

Galbatorix knew that he wasn't anything more than a convenient distraction in the grand scheme of things, atleast as far as the boss-reptile was concerned… but still he would become High King… once the old fool who currently occupied the throne was dealt with… for that, he was willing to take all kinds of shit from the dovah.

"My lord, most of the eldunari and the eggs have sealed themselves away in a hidden location, they are beyond our reach," he said to Alduin, bowing.

The black dragon growled, the sound reverberating through the surrounding, the still smouldering flames in the ruins suddenly flaring up in the energy pulse of the sound. "Not really surprising… the eldest of the dragons whose eldunari resided here knew the terror of my reign, they know the signs of true power… they must have sensed that my return was due and must've taken steps to try and prevent the destruction of their pitiful order. No matter, we will rip the secret from the minds of Umaroth and Vrael. Galbatorix, you and the remaining Forsworn prepare for the Order's imminent attack. Vurthyrol, come, we must raise the rest of our brothers."

Galbatorix nodded and hurried to do his bidding…. As the two dov flew into the gathering darkness.

 _The Seven Thousand Steps, The Throat of the World_

"How bloody high is this mountain?" Eragon complained.

"The seven thousand steps ascend for more than five kilometres and even then they only reach the fortress, High Hrothgar, the summit is higher still," Arya replied with a teasing smirk.

Eragon simply groaned in irritation, not dignifying that comment with a verbal reply.

They had started from Whiterun before dawn, Arya leading the way, having travelled that path once before. They reached the beginnings of the Seven Thousand Steps at about midday. Now, with the sun about to set, it seemed as if they had barely made any progress…. The mountain still loomed over their heads, impossibly tall and incredibly intimidating. It had been a gruesome and tiring climb, and thought of spending at least another day on the godforsaken mountain was not in the least bit pleasing. And now, with night falling, Eragon knew that they had to find shelter and make camp lest they freeze to death.

The said camp was finally made underneath a large granite overhang which provided decent shelter from the wind. He soon had a strong fire going while Arya set about casting wards all around the site.

 _Some time later_

Eragon gave a frustrated grunt before getting up, there was no use of lying down, he simply couldn't sleep. Outside, a storm was raging- the winds howled over and around the overhang, blowing drifts of snow so furiously that he couldn't see anything beyond the wards which were glowing a faint blue. He sat down close to the fire, leaning back against the stone wall, his feet stretched out towards the warmth.

He had been having trouble sleeping ever since the Ra'zac had so brutally murdered and devoured his men….. even now, more than a month later, the faces of his men haunted his nightmares, their unearthly screams letting him know that it was _his_ fault that they had died such undeserving deaths… he had led them into that goddamned ravine… the Ra'zac, it was apparent now, only wanted him.

"Trouble sleeping?" the question startled him out of his stupor and Eragon turned to see Arya getting up. She walked over with the grace of a leopard and slid down the stone face to sit beside him, her legs touching his. He looked at her to request her to not be bothered with his sleeplessness but had to choke back his words when he found her beautiful face inches from his own.. her emerald eyes glowing in the firelight, a truly beautiful, if slightly intimidating visage. Smiling suddenly, he said, "I'm extremely grateful, you know, that you found me when you did."

She was about to shrug it off, but he didn't allow her to do so, "you don't know how… how horrifying the depravations of those beasts were," he shuddered, "and then to travel through these wildlands with naught but your thoughts and nightmares for company." Eragon took a deep breath and shook his head to rid himself of the howling terrors inside.

"Your companionship means much to me, Arya- in the two days that I've known you and I've known little, but I like what I've seen."

She blushed at the praise. Eragon smiled wider at that, "I would be very happy if we could become friends."

Arya studied his warm brown eyes keenly…. She knew who he was, what he had achieved and more importantly, _what_ he was… she also understood that they would be in close proximity for the next few weeks at the very least and it wouldn't be too bad to have someone she could speak with openly and someone to simply spend time with…. All of her childhood friends were back in Ellesmera and given how her last conversation with her mother had ended, she doubted that she would be returning to the elven capital anytime soon….

She smiled at him, "I would like that…."

Eragon nodded, satisfied and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes with a soft sigh…

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what happened that you ended up in the clutches of those monsters in the first place?" Arya asked after some time.

"I don't really know, do I?" he said softly, "I had been given orders to protect the refugees from Riften which had been destroyed by an Urgal army."

Arya nodded, "two wild dragons had tried to protect the city but were driven off by spellcasters…."

His eyes widened, "I didn't know about that…. Anyway, Riften is nestled along the Sea of Ghosts but surrounded completely by the Spine."  
"Yes, with only one pass through the mountains- a rather narrow one too…" Arya added.

He nodded, "exactly…! It is the perfect place for an ambush, especially for cavalry, given that there is no room for our horses to manoeuvre, two or three squadrons of archers can easily decimate our ranks... and I had no intention of going in blind." He sighed, wondering where he had gone so horribly wrong.

"So, me and five of my best riders- we went ahead to scout out the pass- make sure that there would be no nasty surprises ahead. The rest of my men, I ordered to hide in a defilade to remain away from observation. Everything was fine till the sunset that evening- we had ridden almost half way up the pass and I was supremely confident that the urgals were still at the city, the tracks were very easily read… I remember contemplating a dawn strike at the city the day after, to catch the urgals by surprise. We had barely made camp for the night when the Ra'zac struck, swooping down from above, so silently that I didn't know when they landed amidst us; their black breath knocked us out before we could even draw our swords… it was as if they knew exactly where we are. I lost five good men to those … those horrible, disgusting creatures. I… I don't want to revisit those memories." He looked up and Arya would swear in later days that she saw a dragon's eyes in Eragon's face. "All that's left now is for me to re-join my men; the Gods only know where they must be now."

 _High Hrothgar_

"Even in my worst nightmares, I had hope…. Hope that the Shrutu'ugalar would stand united against the onslaught of Alduin… But now, we've been betrayed by our own…" Oromis whispered, angry tears rolling down his elven features. They had barely received the news of the fall of Vroengard…so many hundreds of lives, so full of wonder and hope, snuffed out in the thirst for power of a God. Tenga gripped the shoulders of his old friend, "not all hope is lost… a dovahkiin has been revealed at long last, the Gods haven't abandoned us."

"It is far too late and far too little… Eragon has to be trained to master the Voice and even then it will be extremely difficult to defeat Alduin and his inner circle…. Leave aside the Forsworn. And I doubt we have the luxury of time…"

Glaedr roared in defiance and anger, "then we will buy him time, we must join our brethren in Illirea, we will have our vengeance or die trying!"

Oromis seemed to be in agreement for as he rose, no longer stood the wise, old sage, but a true lord, a Dragon Rider, a fearsome warrior of almost unparalleled capabilities… The Forsworn had much to fear….

Tenga made to stop them but was prevented by Paarthunax himself. "Their hearts are full of anger and righteous hate… let them cleanse themselves of hate and anger, they will return, stronger and wiser for the experience and even better suited for teaching the young dragonborn."

 _ **Fifteen years on…..**_

 _It had been fifteen years since the Great War ended….. King Titus Mede was executed and in his place now sat Galbatorix himself, his dragon Shruikan ruling by his side. The Order of the Dragon Riders is no more, its ranks decimated by Alduin who in the Battle of Illirea killed the entire Elder Council on his own… that battle also saw the death of the Elven Monarch, Evandar and the destruction of what amounted to two-thirds of the Elven Nation's armed forces._

 _While a great many lives were lost in the six years of the war, there had been some saving graces… a group of riders managed to escape and formed the Varden, the Resistance to the Empire, seeking refuge in the Dwarven nation. Two kingdoms had broken away, Surda in the distant South and Skyrim, the loose Federation of Nine Holds in the North, fiercely independent and ever vigilant of the Empire._

 _Alduin and his Inner Circle roosted in the Hadarac Desert, ruling all of the Empire with an iron fist… they had launched an attack on the people of Akaviir, the countries beyond the vast desert… with an aim to bring that ancient homeland of dragons under their rule. The dragons themselves were now divided. Most chose to follow Alduin, out of fear or in a thirst for power. Very few chose to remain loyal to Paarthunax… Fortunately, the eldest and thus, the most powerful of dragons all chose to side with Paarthunax or had been killed, Alduin's followers were young and brash and while they had superior numbers were absolutely no match for the sheer strength and experience of Parrthunax's group… a fact that Alduin was very much aware of and enabled Skyrim to maintain their independence._

 _The Forsworn's surviving riders were Dukes and Counts, each largely independent of each other and ruling their own territories, united only in their hatred of the Resistance and the Free Order._

 _As for our heroes? Roran now was senior Legate of Skyrim, the senior most military officer in the entire province… Most of Skyrim's military forces had survived intact. They had been engaged in the northern borders and with the Urgal incursion during the beginning of the war and thus couldn't deploy to the Empire's territory when the Forsworn attacked, exactly as planned by Alduin. That meant that they had been able to survive the Great War._

 _Whiterun was resettled. Eragon had lobbied hard with the Council of Riverwood to achieve it. His reasoning had been simple and two-fold. First and most important being that Whiterun lay very close to the Throat of the World and thus fell under the protection of Paarthunax and the dragons that followed him. Secondly, the city's defences were to a great extent intact and serviceable, something which couldn't be said for Riverwood. They had agreed and it had taken three years for the entire process to be complete. Whiterun now being ruled by his uncle, who had been elected Jarl._

 _Arya had been devastated by the news of her father's death and had returned home, although only Eragon and Tenga knew exactly who her father was… she returned barely three months later, older and more determined than ever to see the Forsworn die and Alduin fall. Eragon continued his training with the Greybeards, the masters of the Voice at High Hrothgar. He had an unnatural affinity for Dovahzul, picking up the language with minimal effort and able to wield it with immense strength. Paarthunax felt that the dovah soul residing within him was ancient and powerful and unlike anything he had ever felt. Eragon was however, completely incapable of wielding magic… it was not that he didn't have the gift… he had bouts of accidental discharges, whenever he grew frustrated or angry enough; and he was an extremely skilled enchanter, but he had absolutely no control whatsoever._

 _The pair often travelled together, running errands for the Greybeards, exploring ancient ruins that dotted the length and breadth of Skyrim, in search of ancient artefacts and knowledge, especially anything that had to do with the Dragon Cult of ages past. Regardless of his immense knowledge in the Dovahzul, Eragon was nothing more than a dull child compared to the Dragon Priests, atleast as far their knowledge was concerned. Unfortunately, when Alduin had been defeated and exiled at the end of the last Dragon War millennia ago, all knowledge of the Voice had been destroyed._

 _Among the Varden, the free riders continue to strive to defeat the Forsworn.. and had had several successes over the past fifteen years…having killed several of them. The wild dragons who had stayed away from Alduin mostly roosted in Skyrim. They had lost faith in the Order and refused to abide to the oath they had sworn; to dedicate a few eggs every year for the Order… as a result the free riders were dwindling, slowly dying of treachery and combat. What once had been twenty seven free riders had been now reduced to mere twelve._

 _It is at this stalemate, when a blue egg would hatch, and completely change the course of events in Alagaesia._

 **There will be a series of flashbacks in the successive chapters to cover the massive time change of fifteen years and show in detail the major events of the intervening years. SO, how was the chapter? Hit the review button and tell me!**


	10. Chapter 10 : My Dearest Friend

**AN: Allrighty! A new chapter is up and ready in record time! A significantly long one as well! Some one asked me to paint a picture of the ground in Alagaesia, so here goes..**

 **The map is by and large the same for all of Alagaesia…. The only thing that has changed is Palancar Valley.. in its place is Skyrim. There are nine holds in Skyrim…each one with its own capital and villages and unique territory. Whiterun is smack in the middle, but still far to the north of what had been the established settlements before the whole Great War. Its horse coutry… great rolling plains stretching for miles around… its enveloped by mountains to the north and the west. To the north east lies the hold of Windhelm and below it, Falkreath hold; both of which border the forests of Du Weldervarden.**

 **To the west lies the Reach and above it Haafingaar. Even further north, lies the Rift and beside it, Hjaalmarch. And above them all lies Winterhold, bordering the frozen territories of Atmora… The Rift and Haafingaar lie on the coast of the Sea of Ghosts. I know that I have basically changed the entire map of Skyrim, but bear with me.**

 **Far to the east of the Hadarac desert lie the countries of Akaviir… the homeland of the dov and their dragon descendants. It forms part of sequel that I have planned.**

 **And yes, this chapter showcases the first of the several flashbacks that I have planned…**

 **Anyway, enough with the details read on and enjoy… this too, unfortunately is a filler…! But do tell me how you found the chapter!**

* * *

Chapter 10: My Dearest Friend

 _Of the Re-founding of the Companions…  
The outskirts of Riverwood, 23_ _rd_ _March, 1908 T.E_

Eragon sound down in a huff on a large rock on the banks of the White River, the huge wheel of the Riverwood mill churning in the background… it had taken precisely three days for Eragon to convince his uncle and in turn, the village council of the wisdom to move their people to the ruins of Whiterun. Even now, many were unconvinced of the need to do so, although Eragon understood how difficult it must be to be suddenly be uprooted from the place where for generations you had made your home and earned your living, it was nonetheless imperative to do so, given the situation with the defeat of the Order.

The defeat of the Order and the death of Emperor Titus Mede certainly didn't mean a whole lot to the people… their lives would hardly be affected by the events that happened more than a thousand miles away; or so they thought.

The chaos caused by the Great War suddenly meant that there was nobody to police the mountain passes, to protect the trade routes from bandits and suddenly, the caravans which plied all throughout the kingdoms vanished. Movement between settlements became a thing of the past and no one even dared to venture out into the forests to hunt…. The stark reality of lawlessness faced much of the empire.

Skyrim, thankfully was spared from much of the trouble. The military forces, most of which remained intact, were retained at their posts meaning that the most volatile of frontiers, the northern one was, for the moment secure. Legates and Tribunes took up the responsibility of protecting and policing their own areas of responsibility and once communications were established, a chain of command was immediately established. A civil administration, or the beginnings of one, was also quickly formed, with the already existing councils expanding and improvising to adjust to the fast changing situation. Life, for the ordinary people of the province, continued….

Eragon had returned not more than a week ago to Riverrun… the town had changed much in the long years since he had last seen it… Wooden palisades and watchtowers surrounded the place, built in the traditional pattern of an infantry cohort's camp and on seeing Roran as the military commander, Eragon wasn't surprised.

He had discussed with both Paarthunax and Arngeir about the possibility of bringing his people to settle in the Whiterun, rebuilding it to suit their purposes. Both had been rather enthusiastic about the idea… the step would go a long way in closing the rift between the dragons and the people of Alagaesia. Eragon now decided to put the plan into action and approached Roran and Garrow.

While both his uncle and cousin responded positively to the idea, they expressed justified doubts about whether the people would be so inclined… their fears turned out to be an understatement…

Eragon had to reveal that he himself had spent the last four years at High Hrothgar, training under the tutelage of the second eldest dragon in existence. That brought about reminisces among the people of how it had been Paarthunax who had originally taught the ancient heroes the Way of the Voice; how Paarthunax had been instrumental in the first uprising against Alduin. Eragon also assured the council that they would have the protection of Paarthunax, the Greybeards and the not inconsiderable number of dragons who followed the Old One.

He was however upset that he had to reveal so much…. Atleast, he hadn't mentioned that he was Dovahkiin!

So engrossed was he in his thoughts, that he missed the signs of three people approaching him stealthily, _almost._

He snapped out of his thoughts when he smelled _her_ , a hint of sweat and surprisingly, _wet dog_. He sprang into motion, wheeling around to face whoever it was, simultaneously drawing his sword in a flash of silver.

Facing him was a young redhead, wearing what appeared to be armor made from the hide of a fearsome mountain bear… she was of decent height, approaching his shoulders perhaps, a pleasant face and clear grey eyes. A long curved dagger was attached to her hips and from behind her, protruded a recurve bow and a full quiver.

She had raised her hands in a gesture of calm….

"Woah! Calm down, I'm here to talk." She spoke in a clear voice, one that was used to commanding others.

"Tell your two friends to come out." Eragon replied tersely, wondering why all three smelt like dogs.

Her eyes widened perceptively and she raised her hand to make a slashing motion. Two men stepped out from behind some trees about fifteen feet away, lowering their drawn bows as they did so. They approached and Eragon saw that the men, who were quite clearly brothers, had large two handed swords strapped to their backs and wore steel armor besides being similarly grey eyed and with shoulder long curls of black hair. The men were as tall as him, if not taller and very muscular…. It was quite clear that all three were seasoned warriors and skilled ones too.

The redhead spoke, "I apologise for sneaking up on you. I'm Aela the Huntress and this is Vilkas and Farkas. We are among the last surviving members of the Companions."

* * *

 _Whiterun. September 24_ _th_ _, 1916 T.E  
The Bannered Mare _

_We drink to our youth, for the days come and gone._ _  
_ _For the age of oppression is now nearly done._ _  
_ _We'll drive out the_ _Empire_ _from this land that we own._ _  
_ _With our blood and our steel we'll take back our home._

 _All hail to_ _Ulfric_ _! You are the_ _High King_ _!_ _  
_ _In your great honour we drink and we sing._ _  
_ _We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives._ _  
_ _And when_ _Sovngarde_ _beckons, every one of us dies!_ _  
_ _But this land is ours and we'll see it wiped clean._ _  
_ _Of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams!_

 _All hail to Ulfric! You are the High King!_ _  
_ _In your great honour we drink and we sing._ _  
_ _We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives._ _  
_ _And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies!_

 _We drink to our youth, to the days come and gone._ _  
_ _For the age of oppression is now nearly done._

The song rung through the halls in the clear, lucid tones of the local bard, Lisette. Loud applause had her blushing soon. It was a very old song, dating to the ancient Civil War, when Skyrim had rebelled against the then Empire with Jarl Ulfric of Windhelm trying to throw the Mede Empire out of the province… the Empire had won that war with the help of a different Dovahkiin… The similarities between then and the present situation wasn't lost on the people and as a result, the song had gained a lot of popularity in the recent years.

"She sings very well, doesn't she?" the woman at the corner table asked her companion.

Said companion smiled at her, her shining emerald orbs all that were visible from underneath her cowl. "Does our callousness about death still unsettle you?" he asked her teasingly.

She frowned, although it was invisible to all others. "Yes it does. But we are drifting from my purpose here. Arngeir has a new task for us. We have to leave by the day after."

Eragon nodded, before leaning back against the chair. "You have everything you need?" he asked.

She nodded, a bit hesitantly. Eragon noticed and persisted, "you sure?"

Knowing the look in his eyes, she relented, "I could do with a few more potions and I would be very grateful if you looked at my armor."

Eragon's smile widened and he suddenly pulled her to her feet and led her outside.

She hooked her arm through his and slowed him down to a more sedate pace… she knew very well how excited he became whenever he got a chance to show off his smithing skills.

They strolled through the streets of the bustling city, enjoying the pleasant evening weather. Winter was almost here, which meant that the skies were completely clear of clouds and the aurorae were visible in all of their multi-colored beauty. Arya lowered her cowl to gaze up at the heavens, her good spirits refusing to leave her. Skyrim was an addiction for her. The country was amazingly pristine and beautiful and worth her last full measure of devotion… its people were warm, welcoming and honourable… So much so that she considered Skyrim her home more than the verdant forests where she was born. A rather sharp irony considering her heritage and inheritance.

Eragon had ofcourse picked up her morose mood for he had stopped and turned to look at her, his eyes full of concern and worry. As she stared into his brown ones, she couldn't help the sudden burst of affection she felt for her divinely-touched friend. Yet another priceless gift that Skyrim had bestowed upon her. She shook her head slightly to dissuade him of his worries and they continued their journey up the steps to the Gildergreen… the very place where they had first met fifteen years ago.

"Do you remember …" she began.

"Hmm…" he smiled and squeezed her arm. Had they become so close that they knew what the other was thinking? Perhaps…. She smiled wider as he tugged on her hand, insisting that they resume their walk.

They eventually winded their way up the steps to the Dragonsreach.

The castle had been restored to its original glory, although Eragon had the skeletal remains of the great dovah, Numinex removed and cremated… the castle had originally been built by King Olaf One-Eye to imprison Numinex. The poor dovah had remained imprisoned in the stone keep till his death and then his skull had been displayed in the entrance hall like a trophy. When Eragon had first entered into the castle, he was confronted by the still intimidating maw of the ancient dragon. Revolted, he immediately removed it and later in the week, the remains were respectfully cremated.

He took her to his rooms and once inside sealed the doors with a heavy wooden timber. He turned to her and nodded and she casted several wards to prevent eavesdropping.

"So what is it that Arngeir wants us to do?" he asked, removing two mead bottles from the cabinet and handing her one.

"Not Arngeir actually, he is just the messenger. This is actually a request from the old one himself. We are to travel to Hjaalmarch Hold, or more precisely to Skyborn Altar. The matriarch there has requested your assistance."

That was new…dragon society was surprisingly balanced. Effectively there were two different rank structures, one for the males and one for the females. The males had their own pecking order, determined basically by one's strength. Among the females, however, the eldest was the matriarch and while the patriarch's orders could be ignored to some extent; the matriarch's word was law.

Eragon himself occupied a rather ambiguous position in the dragon hierarchy… as the Dovahkiin, he was equal to any other dovah, or even above them… but still subject to the orders of Paathunax and any matriarch and while Eragon had often ignored Paarthunax's advice and followed his own instincts, he dared not do the same with the 'request' of any matriarch.

So, he sardonically asked, "you sure it was a request?"

"It isn't my problem that you have to abide by the _mu'ur se dov_."

"I'm impressed; you have picked the dovahzul rather quickly."

"Well I have a dear friend who happens to be a dovah himself and who mutters in the dragon tongue in his sleep."

Eragon blushed, much to Arya's delight. "Anyway, I've to work on your armor, would you like to rest or..?" he asked.

"You know how much I enjoy watching you work at the Sky-Forge," she replied.

* * *

Hjaalmarch was one of Skyrim's nine holds, each with its capitol city and Jarl. This particular was the second northernmost one, located to the north east of Whiterun hold. The capitol was the ancient city of Morthal, ruled by Jarl Igrod Ravencrone, a wise and just ruler, who had once been a great battlemage. The city was built by the ancient Atmoran hero Morihaus who had been one of the original five hundred Companions who had accompanied Ysgrammor. Built on the shore of the densest marshes in all of Skyrim, Morthal at first glance would seem the most unlikeliest of places to build a hold's capital, but its wealth lay in the marshes themselves, in which grew the most exotic of potion ingredients and in the forests around the marshes wherein dwelt a large host of game creatures and provided more than enough timber for the city's mills. The Stonehills quarry also lay closeby and was an important centre of commerce. Skyborn Altar, as the name suggested, lay farther to the north, atop a rather high cliff… and was one of the more larger dragon nests in the province. Eragon had visited the place before, so that there weren't any foreseeable problems, at least as far as travelling there was concerned.

They set out on horseback on the morning of the day after, heading along the northern road at an easy pace. The weather was clear and pleasant and the road well-travelled, at least as far as Morthal itself. The military structure was extremely conflicting… there was a central military under the authority of the Moot, the council of all the Jarls and the Greybeards. The units were distributed throughout various forts in strategic locations around the province and in certain cases, like Whiterun, in the cities themselves. Apart from that, each Jarl had his own personal guard and then there were the Companions, a group of warriors who carried the legacy of Ysgrammor himself. The Companions were mercenaries but they follow a strict honour code and were widely respected all across Skyrim. The roads, thus, were patrolled by the central military forces as well as the personal guards of each hold.

* * *

 _26_ _th_ _September, 1916 T.E  
The Nightgate Inn._

He observed his dearest and often only friend as she slept on, her face lit by the dying camp fire… a couple of ebony tresses caressing her face. They were about a day's ride away from Morthal and would most likely reach the city by midmorning the next day. Eragon planned to greet Jarl Igrod and then ride uninterrupted to Skyborn Altar. They had stayed at the NIghtgate Inn, a rather popular mill that was much frequented by travellers, merchants, and the odd occasional patrol troops. They had reached just after sunset and were lucky to find one room free.

They had a light supper arranged by the gracious hostess and enjoyed a travelling bard's songs before turning in… sleeping together at the same bed. It had become quite common for them to share their bed, given how often they were out in the wilds, journeying to and fro across the lands…. In the beginning he had tried to be chivalrous and slept on the ground, stubbornly ignoring her vociferous protests. She took great offence and stop talking to him and he had no choice but to relent and join her on the bed.

He didn't deny that he held great affection for Arya, greater than anybody else… she was the one person on whom he could rely upon to be there… to support him through thick and thin, just as he would for her. He had never acted upon his feelings, afraid of her status as the Heir to the Elven Throne and afraid of the future… Alduin and the Empire were a grave danger to his people and he would see them destroyed before thinking about a possible future with Arya.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, they would be up and dawn's break and it wouldn't do to meet the jarl tired and sleep-ridden.

He wasn't going to have any rest that night…

 _In his dream, he saw a white dovah, ferociously strong and yet noble in its bearing and appearance stand beside what was quite clearly Paarthunax. Next to them stood a golden dragon, as large as the old one, with a golden armored rider sitting astride him. They were surrounded on all sides by their foes… the Forsworn and the dragons and dov who fought for Alduin. The great god of destruction himself stood facing the four… his massive horned black body, towering over all others, his great red eyes, fits of hellish fire. The four were suddenly attacked from all sides… they fought bravely, felling many foes, but the enemy's numbers began to tell…. The white dragon was grievously injured, and Eragon suddenly realised that he had not taken to flight, not even once… his wings had been clipped! Things looked hopeless…as first the golden dragon and his rider fell… butchered by a red dragon and his rider and then the white was cornered by Alduin himself…_

 _Just as things seemed hopeless… a blue dragoness flew in, how he knew that it was a dragoness, Eragon never knew, and stood beside the white one… they began to glow together… blindingly in fact and for a moment, everything went white… and Eragon couldn't see anything. When his vision cleared, he saw that everything had changed. The white had disappeared… in its place stood he himself, wearing scales for armor and with white wings! At his side stood both Arya and the blue dragon… whose scales were like Sapphire…_

He woke up then, startled. He was, for a moment disoriented before realising just exactly where he was… he tried to get up but found himself unable, thanks to the weight of the beautiful elf-maiden on his chest.

Eragon laid back and sighed, running his hand through her black tresses… glad for her comforting presence…

 _Another dream?_ Her voice asked in his mind.

He chuckled and replied, _why am I not surprised that you noticed? Yes, this one stranger than the usual… I'll tell you tomorrow.._

 _This one must have been serious… your mind is completely unsettled…it's like the inside of a raging storm._

 _Aye, and no surprise… but I assure you, it's nothing that can't wait for tomorrow. Let us rest._

She sighed in turn and squeezed his torso, nestling further into his side… he smiled… the way they behaved with each other…. It was almost they had been married these past fifteen years.

 _I heard that… but it's true, isn't it? Hmm, something else to think on…._ She said. He frowned.. that one statement had the potential to ruin all of his sleep for this night and all nights to follow.

 _You're so sweet Eragon, in your insecurities… I'm not going anywhere and yes nothing's changing about how we are… not that I appreciate our late night conversation, but its time to sleep._

She reached up and pecked him on the lips, soft kiss… full of warmth, and dare he say, love? _Sleeep…_

And that was all he knew for the night.

* * *

 **Hope you gu** **ys got the 'wet dog' and 'Sapphire' clues! Anyway, a poll: I thought that I should differentiate between the dragons of the Elder Scrolls and IC by having the dov (the ones who were created by Akatosh himself) have two legs and two wings with the dragons being like described in IC..i.e two legs, two hands and two wings. What do you think!**


	11. Chapter 11 : Dragon Rising Part 1

**AN: Hello guys... Another chapter is done and this one was originally a lot longer... 7000 words plus! I cut into half and ended it at what i think is a suitable point in the story. The second part of this chapter is also ready but I am not satisfied with it yet.. hopefully I'll be able to sort it out by the weeks end. Thank you all again for the wonderful reviews... and**

 **Ky111: man you are plucking ideas right out of my head... Are you gifted with the art of mind reading? Seriosuly, your last review was exactly what I had in my mind...**

 **Vizual-Era What couldnt you understand... Point it out and I'll try my best to help you out...**

 **Mad Hatter: thanks for the support bro...**

 **Another thing, The Inheritance Cycle Revisited (ICR) is done with, atleast for the time being... I found it childish and immature... The DragonBorn (DB) is on hiatus... I will pick up the threads eventually...**

 **Anyways, read on and enjoy this chapter... and don't forget to review!**

 **Chapter 11 : Dragon Rising Part 1**

 _Jarl's Quarters, Morthal_

 _26_ _th_ _September, 1916 T.E._

"Greetings Igrod Ravencrone, Jarl of Hjaalmarch." Eragon bowed slightly to the stately raven-haired woman who sat on the throne. Arya stood slightly behind him and to the left. Her face was, as ever in public, expressionless . In the privacy of her own mind, however, she was once again struck by the attitude of Skyrim's people towards their Jarls and Thanes. The positions were more responsibilities than seats of power and no one ever addressed them with overglorified titles or submissiveness. Every commoner in Skyrim was free to do as he pleased as long as they remained within the confines of law.

"Thane Eragon Bloodborne, welcome to Morthal. I presume that there is a significant reason for your and your beautiful companion's presence in Hjaalmarch," the Jarl greeted in turn, her voice still quite clear and strong, in spite of her advancing years.

"We come here on behalf of the blades and our destination is Skyborn Altar, Jarl. We simply sought rest and refuge in your city last night."

"Skyborn Altar, you say? Hmm... I have of course no intention of inhibiting your mission and if there is any reasonable request on your part, I shall do my best to aid you... But first, I have a favour to ask of you, Thane."

Eragon nodded hesitatingly... it would be extremely rude on his part to not listen to the Jarl's request. The Jarl cleared her throat, and her brow furrowed momentarily... "I would request you Thane to negotiate a settlement between my hold and Windhelm... there has been increasing tension between me and Jarl Baalgruuf.. His herders have for centuries shepherded their cattle in Mara's Clearing which lies in my hold... Similarly, my fishermen have cast always cast nets near Windhelm. Two months ago, there was an altercation between the fishermen of both holds near Windhelm...a boat was damaged and a fisherman died. Jarl Baalgruuf banned our boats from entering the Bruinen fjords, our only access to the Elven lakeside city of Avallone, our major export route. I banned his herders from grazing their flock here but that is hardly having any effect; meanwhile our economy is crippled... I beg of you, Thane Eragon, to help us... Baalgruuf respects you and your uncle and your neutrality as a Thane of Whiterun will go a long way to make him see reason." Igrod's voice was quivering by the end and Eragon knew that the situation was truly dire.

His respect for the aged Jarl only increased, she was prepared to do whatever it took to help her people.

"I will do my best to resolve this situation between you and Jarl Baalgruuf, my Lady." Eragon replied, "however I must first travel to Skyborn Altar.. I've been summoned by the Matriarch and I cannot delay in this."

The Jarl's eyes widened commically on hearing this, "the Matriarch? What are you still doin here!" she shouted, "Had you mentioned this before, I would not even have thought of delaying you."  
She rose from her throne and descended to grasp his arm in a warrior's grip, "Thank you Thane for being gracious enough to listen to an old woman's grumbling... But please! Rush to Skyborn Altar!"

* * *

 _Skyorn Altar, Hjaalmarch Hold._

 _27_ _th_ _September, 1916 T.E._

"Why, oh why do dragons have to roost so damn high up?" Arya complained.

Eragon smirked, "all dragons enjoy the beauty of snow capped mountains for only in the bright glare of sunlight reflected from white snow, do their own scales shine all the more! That and the dominating feel of being so high up than everybody else makes them feel all the more superior."

"Are you serious?" she asked him incredulously.

He nodded, a smug smile on his face, "I had asked a young dragon the very same question and thats what I was told."

"They are very vain creatures, aren't they?" she asked giving him a pointed look.

"Hey!" Eragon protested, "I am not vain!"

The duo were ascending the high plateau that was Skyborn Altar- the narrow path had been dug into the cliffside centuries ago and was quite narrow and dangerous, not to mention, dangerously broken up in certain parts. They had to leave their horses behind in the care of the Stablemaster of Fort Greymoor and complete the journey on foot... but the view was certainly very very good.

The rest of the climb passed in ompanionable silence... Arya was her cheerful self while Eragon was contemplating Jarl Igrod's unusual request. The path finally ended and the cliff face merged with the plateau's floor. Ahead dozens of wild dragons were visible, flying around, some on the ground; the occasional roar or blazing spire of flames shooting skywards made the vista unearthly beautiful as well as more than slightly intimidating.

Eragon was noticed almost immediately and one young dragon roared, announcing his arrival.

" **Fin dovahkiin lost meyz** " a brown scaled dragon announced and almost instantly, all activities ceased- the dragons observed him- a hidden warmth and respect quite clearly visible in their bearing- they were welcoming- for all practical purposes a snior member of their family.

A large scarlet-gold dragon, glinting like a dollop of blood high in the sky, let out a bugle- and dived towards them, his wings tucked close to his body, his speed increasing with each passing moment till the point that Eragon thought that collison would certainly be inevitable; seconds from impact, the dragon snapped his wings open and drastically converted his momemtum to a horizontal direction, whipping overhead, the gust from his passing almost strong enough to drive Eragon to his knees. He looked on with envy at the aerobatics of the dragon and ran to where he landed.

A lilac colored female had meanwhile approached Arya, a very young dragon, perhaps a year and a half old.

Arya stood confidently and waited for the dragoness to initiate contact; no matter how close she was to Eragon and Paarthunax, she never forgot that she was still an outsider and while no dragon would harm her here, because of Eragon's presence, it would be much better to avoid that possibility in the first place.

"You bear the scent of the Dovahkiin," said the young dragon, looking right at Arya, her violet eyes filled with curiosity, "and he bears yours- you are close, nid?" Her voice was plesantly sweet and melodious.

Arya nodded, "we are close."

She looked at her with a searching and critical gaze and Arya couldnt help but feel that she was being judged.

"You are pretty, I suppose, for a pointy-eared two-legs. I am Britjenah."

"Arya of the Blades.," she replied and the dragoness nidded, turning to look at the dovahkiin who in a headlock-of sorts- with the scarlet-gold dragon,

Arya laughed aloud, a bit worried about the healthiness of headlocking with a dragon.

"That is Ahiraj, the patriach. He and the dovahkiin are fast friends." Britjenah informed her with a wink.

"They behave like children in each other's company." the dragoness informed her in a deadpan voice.

And certainly their actions seemed to lend some merit to her accusations, Eragon was currently buried under Ahiraj's forepaw.

They momentarily separated and walked side by side towards a large cave. Arya and Britjenah followed, as did many of the other dragons.

"That is the nursey." Arya was informed by her new acquaitance.

"Who is the matriarch? Eragon seems terrified of her." Arya asked.

The dragoness laughed, "she is Akorah- Ahiraj's mother. She is the eldest here. Well more than fifteen hundred years old."

'Stern-hunter,' Arya translated in her mind. 'No wonder Eragon is terrified.'

Akorah was one of the largest dragons Arya had ever seen, larger than Glaedr, almost as big as Paarthunax himself. She was amber colored- with white streaks all running diagonnaly through her body. She was without a doubt, very beautiful and very intimidating. Standing close to seventy five feet tall and almost twice as long... Arya didn't want to get on her bad side-ever.

"Dovahkiin!" she said with steel in her voice... everyone grew deathly silent. " **Hei los spein** \- I had asked for your presence two weeks ago!" Arya gulped and hoped that her friend wouldn't come to bodily harm. He looked so miniscule in front of the mother-dragon. Eragon himself felt like he was an impudent child- seven years old all over again. He said in a rather small voice, "unfortunately while I have the soul of a dragon, I lack the wings of one."

The entire plateau shook in the combined laughter of the gathered dragons and Akorah's stern facade crack.

"Come, we must converse- the issue had hand merits serious thought." The matriarch led the group away from the nursery towards the very center of the vast plateau where a circle of depressions had formed in the hard igneous rock by generations of dragons who had sat in the coucil.

Arya made to follow but was paused by Eragon's cries for help. When she looked at the direction the cries had come from, she found Eragon buried underneath three- no, five baby dragons who were nibbling and scratching every place they could reach, all the while clamoring for his attention.

* * *

Once Eragon had been rescued from the dragonlings, much to Arya's amusement... the council began. Akorah sat at the center of the semicircle of 'depressions' and on her left sat the warriors and leaders, beginning with Ahiraj while to her right sat the various elder she-dragons of the roost. Since this was an open council, other dragons also sat around the clearing all paying attention to the ongoings.

"As you well know, having the ability yourself, we dragons can see and feel the **vennesetiid,** the flow of the currents of time- of the intertwining of souls;" Akorah began.

Eragon sat all the straighter.. this talk of the currents of time was disturbing.. Eragon kew the curse well enough... He was often haunted by visions of his predecessors and even others when he visited particular sights.

"Three months ago, one of the young couples here laid an egg- a single egg. The dragon inside refuses to hatch. I have a strong feeling that the two of you have woven destinies- you have a past : **vuun krent.** "

Arya reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiled hesistatingly at her.

"So what do you ask of me?"

"You know very well... Dovahkiin. The egg will hatch for you," the matriarch replied. Her amber eyes were studying him keenly.

"Is it common for the dovahkiin to be a rider as well?" Arya asked aloud.

Many dragons scoffed... "The order has been around for about two and a half thousand years.. the dovahkiin are far older... there have been dovahkiin as long as there have been mortals and dov.. Tiber Septim or Hjalti as we know him was the reason the Order of the Shrutuugal was founded in the first place... to balance the sheer strength and power of the alliance between men and the dov. It was Tiber Septim's victory over the Aldmer that caused many sleepless nights for the Elves." a green dragon to the right of Akorah told her.

"You're evading my question," Arya persisted.

"This one has spirit, a black dragon on the left of Ahiraj said. "I like her. The short answer of your question is yes. It is not uncommon for a dovahkiin to have a dragon as a companion or good friend.. it is common sense of course, two beings of the same species are more likely to be friends than of two different species."

"But Eragon is unique... never before has a dovahkiin had bonded with an egg... the dragon was often a youngling or even an adult in past cases, never an egg." Ahiraj said.

"All I am saying that all unhatched eggs and men and elves are bound under the magic of the Shrutuugalar bond, they have ever since Eragon the first and Bid'daum created the governing magic."

Eragon now understood... if the egg hatched for him, as Akorah was sure it would then he would be a rider.

"I understand..." he said, his voice as hard as steel with determination. "Take me to the egg."

* * *

Doubt tore at Eragon as he followed Akorah to the worried parents. He already was Dovahkiin- he was already extremely powerful and perhaps even destined to defeat Alduin... and now there was this spectre of being a rider. His fate was very very twisted... he had dreamed of being a rider like Brom as a child... once he had crossed the age of twenty he had made peace with the fact that he would never become a rider... And now here he was. A rider, or atleast a prospective one.

Now he was worried that so much power would easily corrupt him... would he become another Tiber Septim? Another Talos? Whose thirst for power was never quenched... who destroyed an ancient empire (albeit a abusive, autocatric racist one).

"You worry too much Eragon," Arya suddenly said, entwining their hands and smiling warmly at him.

"The Dovahkiin have always been the most powerful warriors in Alagaesian history- they have always been revealed at apocalyptic moments and have changed the fate of this land with their deeds... it was always evident that you too would be powerful beyond compare... You have to be considering the challenges that you face... Alduin, the Forsworn and the Empire and who knows what else in your future. That doesn't mean that you'll be a despot nor does it mean that you'll ascend to Godhood like Tiber Septim." She had stepped closer until their bodies were lightly pressed against each other. Eragon was being overwhelmed by the addictive fragnance of crushed pine cones that was _so_ Arya. "What matters is who you are, here," she whispered, her emerald eyes gazing into his own, placing a palm on his thudding heartbeat.

She looked up at his face and Eragon's mind went blank at the smouldering fire in her emerald eyes... "I know you... I SEE YOU... you are noble and a kind-hearted man... And as long as I am there in your life, you'll remain so."

He licked his lips to wet them, and whispered, "Forever then."

She nodded, her gaze drifting to his lips. "Forever" She leaned in at the same time as he did, their lips meeting halfway in a soft warm kiss, filled with passion and love.

* * *

Two dragons were waiting for them alongwith Ahiraj and Akorah in one of the larger caves that surrounded the plateau, A deep azure blue dragoness and a startlingly handsome noble white dragon with dark red stripes.

The two, in one fluid motion, brought their left frront foot forward and bowed their heads slightly, paying Eragon the respect accorded to an elder dovah.

"I am Vervada Stormscales, Eragon Dovahkiin," the azure dragon spoke- her voice unmistakably feminine and yet predatorial.

"An honor to meet the legendary Stormscales of the seige of Raven's Perch." Eragon replied with a small bow.

'Stormscales?' Arya whispered to him in his mind.

'Aye. Stormscales. Vervada has an unusually strong Call Storm shout. She used it to great effect during the seige of Raven's Perch- destroying the rampart of the castle with a terryfying storm.'

The white-red dragon approached, "Iormungr, Dovahkiin and the honor of meeting you is most assuredly mine."

Eragon smiled and bowed as well. Despite their words, the two dragons were quite clearly stressed.. their eyes narrowed with days if not weeks of poor sleep... the veins in their throats were quite clearly taut- a sure indication of pent up frustration.

"Vervada and Iormungr are the worried parents I had told you about." Akorah informed him. Eragon nodded, having guessed as much.

"May I see this egg?" Eragon asked of the mother and she nodded. Turning around to lead him into the cave. The cave was massive... and had a gentle downslope for about fifty feet or so before levelling out into a huge room. It was spacious enough to hold all four dragons and have room for two dragons the size of Paarthunax. The cave had been dug out of the igneous rocks by dragon claws and shaped by dragonfire. The walls had a polished glassy texture, an indication of the fierceness of the fire; the whole chamber was lit up by soft glowing red werelights. In the furhtermost corner, Eragon found a single sapphire blue egg, nestled among charred rocks.

He looked to the mother for permission and once she nodded, he stooped down and picked the large egg, cradling it in his arms... it was very beautiful and in his mind, he could sense Arya's emotions... overwhelmingly joyous... He smiled as he studied the egg... a royal blue at the base that slowly transitioned to a pale blue, almost white at the apex, the egg was covered by a spider's web of thin white veins that completely covered the hard shell. It was quite cool to the touch and Eragon felt a small tingle plucking at his very soul as he held it.

Arya gasped when the egg started to glow and Eragon found his hands stuck to the egg... it was also becoming progressively warmer. Then the white veins started to glow, reaching scalding temperatures. Eragon could feel the heat on his skin but it did him no harm...

"She is hatching! Blessings upon you Dovahkiin!" Vervada murmurred from behind Eragon, tears of relief and joy flowing down her cheeks.

"Elfling!" Vervada shouted at Arya, "get behind me! The egg will explode!"

Arya heeded the warning just in time. She had barely made it behind the mother dragon when suddenly the whole egg burst into bright blue flames that roared into a crescendo, completley enveloping Eragon and the egg. The heat became so intense that Arya was forced to seek shelter behind the wing of the mother dragon.

Slowly the flames receeded to reveal Eragon cradling a new born dragon in his arms. He was gazing into the sapphire blue eyes of the baby dragon and she looked right back at him... she cocked her head to a side and then suddenly reached out and nuzzled his left palm... A searing fire arced through his arm... burning through his nerves and leaving him blinded with the agony... Eragon screamed and darkness took him…

* * *

 **Translations of the dragon language used in the chapter…**

 **Fin dovahkiin lost meyz : the dragonborn has come**

 **Hei Los spein : you are late**

 **Vennesetiid : the currents of time**

 **Vuun krent : destiny unkept**

 **So, how was the chapter, hit the review button and tell me! All criticisms accepted!**

 **SO how was the chapter?! Do hit the review button and inform me... all viewpoints appreciated!**


	12. Chapter 12 : Dragons Rising Part II

**Hello again guys... it felt great reading the reviews of the last chapter and here's another... in record time and the longest one yet in this series...**

 **I hope that you guys enjoy this chapter and once again tell me what you think about this one...**

 **infiniteark: Info about Skyrim? I would have suggested the elder scrolls wikia, but that is too much lore... I am big fan of the elder scrolls universe but even I have trouble shifting through that mountain of often contradicting myths and legends.**

 **The main thing that you need to know are the Dragonborn, Alduin and the Nine Divines. Google It!**

 **Again, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I did while writing it!**

* * *

 **Chapter 12 : Dragons Rising Part II**

 _28_ _th_ _September, 1916 T.E._

"She is beautiful, isn't she?" Arya asked her friend as they observed the newborn dragon play with other dragonlings.

Eragon simply nodded, too exhausted to speak. They were in the same cave where the the egg had hatched, only now he and Arya were leaning against the smooth wall, close to the mouth of the cave, partaking of the delicious elven waybread of which Arya knew the secret of making. Eragon was still drowsy from the bonding ceremony, having only woken up about an hour ago. His left arm was still raw and was smarting... there was a wicked silvery pale spiral that originated from his palm and twisted its way all the way to his elbow. Arya called it the Gedwey Ignasia, but she had never seen a Gedwey Ignasia quite like that.

She sat beside him, their hands looped together, her head resting on his shoulder, a small smile playing on her lips and unbridled joy in her eyes.

"Have you decided on a name for her?" Arya murmurred.

"She has refused everything that I've so far suggested!" he replied, glaring at the baby dragon, who looked up at the pair and smirked.

"Eragon," Arya began hesitatingly, "why do all the dragons bow to you? Except the matriarch and the babies of course?"

Eragon understood the background of her question...Elves, despite having gone to war with the dragons, repected and revered the dragons a lot. To them, and thus to Arya, the great dragons bowing to a mortal, even if he or she was the Dovahkiin, was inconceivable.

"What do you know of the differences between the dov and the dragons?" Eragon asked.

She shrugged, "nothing more from the obvious- the dov do not have forelegs- or rather their forelegs and wings are fused into one."

Eragon shook his head, "no, that difference is the result of evolution over the eons. The very first dragons were physically the exact replica of the dov... No, the difference is far more fundamental. Simply put, the dragons are our descendants. We, the dov were created by Akatosh and Kynareth to guard Nirn- to aid, protect and guide the races of Alagaesia. That is why Alduin and to an extent, Paarthunax are called the Firstborn of Akatosh. The dragons were born as a result of mating between the dov... they are our descendants. Now, there are very few female dov left... eventually the dragons had children of their own, since the number of the dov has never increased. With each successive generation, our differences became sharper, more pronounced."

He took a deep breath, before continuing, happy to see that Arya was well and truly engrossed, "with me so far? Good, now to us dov, shouting comes naturally- we can create shouts with the right intent, emotions and words. The dragons are not nearly as versatile sa us- they can use only a few shouts and only under great duress can they use the othes...

Even more fundamental is our immortality- the dov are truly immortal- a dovah cannot be killed unless it is explicitly at the hands of another dovah. If their body is felled by some mishap, the soul travels to the Halls of our Father, Akatosh, awaiting a recall to Nirn. The dov remember who and what they were.. except in the case of the Dovahkiin- I do not know who I was in my past birth. For the dragons, on the other hand, their souls pass on to the Aetherius on their death."

Arya was completely enraptured by what Eragon was saying, never before had anybody really explained to her the gap between the dragons and the dov.

"To all dragons and dov," Eragon continued, "I am, above all, their kin, a dovah trapped in a mortal bpdy, yes, but a dovah nonetheless... I can out shout any dragon that lives here on anywhere in Alagaesia... My shout is stronger than Paarthunax's and perhaps in time the dov will recognise the supremacy of my **thu'um**."

Arya nodded, a faraway look in her eyes, "Why isn't this common knowledge? To most people, even the elves, there is no difference between the dov and the dragons."

"Especially to the elves, Arya, especially to the elves." Eragon muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"The source of all scholarly works on the dragons are the elves... they are prejudiced against the dov." Arya made to interrupt but Eragon pacified her by wrapping his arm around her waist, "Hear me out."

"Why was the Dragon Rider Order established?" he asked.

"It was established as a pact between the elves and the dragons to maintain peace after Eragon the First and Bid'daum bonded at the end of the Dragon-Elf war."

Eragon nodded. "That is the widely accepted story. That bonding was and still is remarkable and nothing sort of a miracle. But remember that pact was between the elves and the dragons.. the dov were never party to it. Going back to the establishment of the Septim dynasty... the elves had joined Tiber Septim in the war against the Aldmer...But at the same time they were alarmed at the strength and power of the Dovahkiin..and more importantly of the Human-Dragon alliance forged by the Septims. Ever since then the elves have searched for a means to even the scales... the Dragon Rider order was a means to achieve that goal. That was the main reason why your grandmother, Queen Dellanir was furious when Anurin decided to make the Order independent and include Humans in the Dragon Rider pact. Anyway, when the Elves first studied the dragons after the end of the war, they learnt just how close to defeat they had been when Bid'daum hatched for my namesake. The dov were yet to intervene and the dragons, prideful that they were, hadn't invoked the alliance with the Septim Empire. But they were furious enough to do so, almost. Had that happened, the Elves would have lost.

This naturally came as a great shock to the first Elven dragon-scholars and it was decided that the existence of the dov and the alliance between the **Dovah Nor** and the Empire be hidden from the populace. Simple propaganda. We never sought to correct that measure... the dov and their power remained a secret to most while the dragons, our descendants received the respect they deserve."

Arya had listened to his words quite carefullly and she raised her head off his shoulders, a distant look in her eyes. For a moment, Eragon thought that he had offended her and that she would distance herself from him, but she remained next to him, even allowed his hand to rest at her waist.

"Why didn't the dov oppose the pact?"

"Why should we? We are different from the dragons, we have a sworn duty to protect Alagaesia and its people, irrespective of race. The dragons aren't bound by any such oath. This is also why the dov didn't intervene in the Elf-Dragon war. The Dragon Rider pact would bring about an end to the war and bring the elves into the fold. So effectively, there would be an Elf-Human-Dragon alliance to keep the peace."

Arya nodded, she finally understood. "So that's why Anurin broke off from the Elven Throne and included humans in the pact."

Eragon nodded, "When Anurin became lead rider and learned of the histories... he came straight to Paarthunax and apologised for what he felt was rude behaviour on the part of the elves. He was given the **Wuth Gein** 's blessings. I, personally have never felt wronged by the Elves... and certainly not by your grandmother. Queen Dellanir did what she felt was best for her people and that is something that I deeply respect."

Arya's face cleared and she smiled at him. Eragon pushed on, "Arya, I trust you as much as I trust Paarthunax and you are far more important to me than that old dovah. I will keep no secrets from you except those required by my duties as Dovahkiin. What I'm trying to say is that I hope you understand that nothing, nothing will come between us, not the history between our people nor the young one currently crawling up by back."

She smiled brightly, her eyes liting up and making her look more beautiful than ever. Eragon leaned in for a soft kiss and she met him halfway, just as the dragonling crawled over to lie down on their laps, her head and shoulders in Eragon's and the other half in Arya's. She looked up at Eragon and showed him the image of his and Arya kissing alongwith an intense feeling of curiosity. _The dragon was wondering about the kiss._

Eragon laughed aloud, startling both of his female companions. Arya looked at him quizically but he shook his head, indicating that it was nothing. To the baby dragon, he showed her the entirety of the time that he and Arya had been together... all of their memories baring none. He knew that she was studying them very cloesly and once the memory stream ended, she looked at Arya, glaring at her whike Arya returned her gaze with a bemused smile.

After a few moments, the dragon nodded and in a proud, snobbish voice proclaimed, "she'll do."

Eragon, once again was laughing, his sides shaking with mirth as he snuggled closer to Arya, wrapping his arm around her. Arya rested her head on his shoulders, her hand caressing the baby's sapphire blue scales gently.

 _That's it! Saphira! That sounds like a good name, no?_ He asked of his bonded partner.

 _Eragon,_ she whispered back.

"Saphira" Eragon said out loud and the dragon hummed, drifting into sleep.

* * *

 _29_ _th_ _September, 1916 T.E_

 _Skyborn Altar_

"I thank you Dovahkiin for being the reason for young Saphira's hatching.. We are all grateful to you," Akorah, the proud matriarch bowed.

Eragon reached forward and rested his hands on her nuzzle... "Saphira and I are now bound in heart, mind and soul.. for life. That makes you all family. You are most welcome at High Hrothgar and Whiterun."

The great mother smiled as did the other dragons gathered around them. Then with a great roaring spire of blistering flames, the dragons bid adieu to the party of Vervada, Iormungr, Ahiraj and the two "two-legs".

Eragon and Arya, along with the two new parents, with Ahiraj as security, had decided to fly straight to High Hrothgar where they would stay for a year, helping young Saphira grow up. The parents were very reluctant to let go of their daughter for she had been conceived with the intention of being wild. Eragon understood and since he wasn't officially a rider, he decided that Iormungr and Vervada would not be separated from their daughter. A scrying spell later and Eragon got his idea veted by both Paarthunax and Arngeir. Unfortunately this meant that he and Arya would have to leave their horses behind in Greymoor fort; they would have to collect them later, he supposed.

A more pressing concern was the situation between the Jarls Igrod and Baalgruuf. Thankfully Ahiraj had offered to fly them to the ancient citadel... Once Paathunax and Arngeir were brought upto speed about the new developments, Eragon decided to immediately head back to Windhelm- leaving Saphira in the care of her parents.

He knew that the first few weeks were extremely essential for a dragon and his/her rider, but Eragon felt it impossible to let the situtaion fester any longer... he had strong gut feeling that his presence in Windhelm would be of momentous importance. That being said, Eragon wanted to minimize the tome he and Saphira would spend apart. She had become very dear to his heart in the week since her hatching and he craved for her presence. So, it was with a heavy heart and great reluctance that Eragon left behind young Saphira and flew to Windhelm with Arya.

They arrived in Windhelm close to sunset on the 6th of November. Winterhold was the oldest city in Skyrim, established by Ysgrammor himself and served as the seat of his dynasty.. it was once, capital of Skyrim... Nestled in the Velothi mountains that lined the forested borders of the forests of Du Weldervarden and connected via Lake Yorgrim to the Elven city of Avallone and thus to the Sea of Ghosts, it was an important trade route and was thus, very well maintained and rich.

A cold breeze flew in from the North as Ahiraj descended to land in the stone courtyard of the Palace of Kings...the city's guards immeditately surrounded them, but their weapons remained sheathed.

"Identify yourselves!" the lead guard shouted at them.

Eragon calmly descended from Ahiraj's back, jumping the thirty odd feet down, his knees buckling slightly under the weight of his armor. Arya followed him, landing with perfect grace and poise.

"I am Eragon Bloodborne, Thane of Whiterun and this is Arya of the Blades, our mighty friend is Ahiraj, the patriarch of Skyborn Altar. We seek an audience with Jarl Baalgruuf" Eragon said politely.

The guard nodded and the men dismissed, relieved that they didn't have to fight a dragon. "Welcome to Windhelm, I'll take you to the Jarl...eh...or should I ask the Jarl to come out for your sake, Ahiraj?"

The dragon in question smiled at the guard's thoughtfulness, " **Nid.** That won't be necessary. I came here as escort to my friends... If you'll let me, I am perfectly content to rest here in this large courtyard while you two legs do what two legs do."

The guard nodded and turned about with a gesture for Arya and Eragon to follow, but then he paused midstep as he spotted the Jarl's housecarl approach them. Eragon and Arya also noticed her, it was hard not to... tall, wearing light padded leather armor, with a two handed sabre slung across her back, and a curved dagger at her waist... the housecarl presented a striking image. She had long golden locks tied in a plait that reached her mid-back, grey storm eyes that observed everyone with a sharpness borne by years of experience and two pointy ears at either side of her head. Her face was beautiful... sharp features that were typical elfin but for the long scar that ran above and beneath her right eye in a vertical slit, seven or so inches long. The scar, Eragon could tell was decades old, its color almost as fair as her fair skin and yet she had made no effort to hide it, bearing it as a mark of honor.

"Greetings Eragon Bloodborne and Ahiraj and," she paused, her eyes going wide as she took in Arya, her eyes taking in Arya's face and her eyes..

" _I did not expect to see you here, travelling in the company of a dragon and the Thane of Whiterun, Princess Arya."_ Eragon understood enough of the Ancient Language to get what was said.

Arya eyes widened but she remained quite, glaring at the elf-maiden.

"Irileth", Eragon growled, "can we do this inside?"

She looked at him and nodded, "of course, forgive me, I was taken aback by old memories."

Turning to the guard, she said, "bring out the best roasted elk and two pitchers of the best ale for Lord Ahiraj and ask that fool of a bard to come here. Jarl Baalgruuf has declared a feast in honor of our guests!"

The gathered crowd, who had come to see the Patriarch of Skyborn Altar, cheered, expressing their approval of the Jarl's idea with great enthusiasm.

Eragon raised a single eyebrow at Irileth who smirked at him and led them both into the keep.

* * *

Irileth led the pair straight to the main hall where the jarl awaited them. Eragon had never before seen the Jarl of Windhelm, having known him only by reputation. The jarl was known to be a veteran of the Legion of the Northern Province, a contempory of his uncle; and it showed in his bearing and posture . The jarl stood facing them, his back straight, shoulders squared and legs slightly apart with the hands crossed behind his back; a sword at his waist and comfortable woollen clothes on his well-maintained frame. The only thing that marked him as a jarl was the rich cloak that hung from his shoulders- dyed deep blue with soft white wool trimmings and a silver crown resting upon his brow.

He walked towards Eragon and grasped his forearm in a warrior's grip, smiling pleasantly, "welcome Eragon Bloodborne, Thane of Whiterun, long have I wished to meet the hero of Greenspring Hollow!"

Eragon smiled, "greetings Jarl Baalgruuf, Uncle Garrow has spoken often and fondly of your time in the Legions."

Turning to Arya, Baalgruuf accorded her the same courtesy: that of a fellow warrior, "I can see from your armor and your ring that you're a Blade, my lady, but I confess that I do not know your name."

Arya smiled before bowing her head slightly, "Arya, Jarl Baalgruuf."

The Jarl invited them for supper and they accompanied him to the great table where several other prominent men and women of the city were sitting... introductions were made before the meal started.

'What was that between you and Irileth?' Eragon asked Arya, who was sitting beside him.

'She recognised me! You should've told me that she was here!' she said harshly, causing him to wince. 'Sorry, it is just that I don't want my mother to know where I am.'

'Irileth is a half-elf... I never thought that she would cause problems... I've heard that she and Jarl Baalgruuf met when the latter was still in the legions. A quick friendship arose... strengthened by years of combat and service. It never even registered in my mind. I am sorry... I will try to request the jarl to prevent her from informing your mother.'

Arya nodded.

Eragon turned to focus on the various conversations floating around the table, in an effort to keep his mind off Saphira. It felt as if there was a hole in his heart... a missing peace... a void that wouldn't be filled. Arya noticed his morose mood and reached out to take his hand, pulling it into her lap.

Eragon almost jumped out of his seat at that and wanted to pull back his hand, worried that the others might notice something when a powerfully loud roar reverberated through the floor... forcing many to close their ears and cry out in pain.

Eragon jumped to his feet, as did Arya and Irileth. The doors suddenly burst open and a guard came running in, shouting at the top his voice... "DRAGON! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"

Hearing this, Eragon dashed for his sword and bow and ran outside, Arya, Irileth and the Jarl hot on his heels. The jarl was shouting orders to bring up reinforcements.

Outside, it was utter chaos, some of the guards were shepherding the townspeople into cover, others were busy trying to put out some of the fires and yet others were firing arrows into the night sky... screams and moan filled the air and above, two massive dragons were fighting it out... bellowing flames at each other. Fires burned brightly, refusing to be put out, a wooden house to the left of the courtyard disintegrated, sparks and flames rising from within as its beams were turned to ash by dragonfire. A bell was tolling somewhere, its repetetive gongs a warning to all others.

"GUARDS!" Irileth shouted, "GET THE PEOPLE INSIDE THE KEEP!" The guards around her obeyed her orders and rushed ahead to draw the poeple into the safety of the stone walls.

Eragon meanwhile was running hard towards the citygates, hoping to draw the attacking dragon away from the city. The plan wasn't working.. the dragon was too focused on Ahiraj. He skidded to a stop, brought his bow out and took aim... a difficult task, the dragons were flying around, shouting at each other, great big spires of flames erupting across the night sky, the winds from their passing buffeted Eragon and he was able to spot the hostile dragon in front, Ahiraj chasing him. It was a reddish brown drag...no it was a dovah! There were no forelegs! He aimed ahead of the dovah, aiming for where he would be and released the string, the dragonbone bow sang in joy as the steel arrow whistled straight and true, burrying itself in the dovah's side.

"I AM DOVAHKIIN! FACE ME, DOVAH, IF YOU DARE!" Eragon roared at the top of his voice.

He had the dovah's attention for he hovered in the air, looking at him with a glint in his red eyes.

"I AM SAHLOKNIR, DOVAHKIIN... ALDUIN THURI WILL REJOICE AT YOUR DEATH!"

Eragon didn't wait for the now identified sahloknir to come after him, he turned and ran outside the city gates

Arya was wondering if Eragon had a deathwish, there were better ways to claim a dragon's attention than pulling rank! She hastily rushed after him, an arrow nocked, ready to be released.

Outside, the two flying creatures were engaged in a dogfight, circling each other and vomitting fire... Eragon stood below them, releasing well aimed arrow after arrow... Guards were making their way to the gates, having secured the people, but they were quite clearly terrified.

Suddenly the dovah disengaged from Ahiraj and dived straight towards Eragon, its maw open, red flames flickering within; Arya screamed at Eragon to move and prepared a spell to forcibly move him towards her, but what happened next would shock all who witnessed it into silence.

Eragon saw sahloknir heading towards him, diving at great speed, the dovah opened its maw to release a fireball at him. Eragon let the bow fall from his hand and drew his sword...he braced himself for what he was about to do... suddenly the dovah released his fireball and it hurtled towards the ground... at the very same time, or perhaps a moment before, Eragon shouted, **"WULD NAH KEST!"**. The snow on the ground erupted as Eragon soared upwards at great speed... his **thu'um** powering him through the flames, only to emerge above the dovah who was at the moment banking to the left... all this happened in fractions of a moment.. time seemed to stop for Eragon as he hung there, at the apex of his vertical motion and then everything sped up... he twisted his body as he began to fall and with a great push, he buried his sword in sahloknir's flank. The dovah roared and did his utmost to shake him off, only for the sword to dig deeper into his flesh. Eragon held onto the thorns on the dovah's back with one hand and with the other, he pulled the sword out and stabbed the left wing, cutting through the delicate membrane easily... the dovah lurched to the left and suddenly, they were fallling through the sky... Eragon braced his knees and tensed his body to jump off just before the dragon crashed... He fell for thirty feet and landed in dense snow, rolling forward to lessen the blow...

Groaning, he got up at the same time as sahloknir did... his left forearm-wing curled close to his body... Wearily the two dov circled each other... keenly watching the other... Eragon didn't know this but his eyes were glowing blue.. his iris had turned into slits...very draconic characteristics.

"I underestimated you, Dovahkiin. Maybe you're worthy of your title..." the larger dovah said, before lunging forward, his maw open, long ivory teeth glinting in the moonlight.

Eragon turned into the attack, the large head passing a feet in front of him... he immediately brought down his sword on the exposed neck in a powerful two handed chop... breaking through the hard scales and cutting through strong corded muscles. Hot blood splashed on him, scalding his flesh wherever it was exposed. Raoaring in agony, sahloknir's head thrashed around, hitting him and sending him into the snow seven feet ahead.

Eragon rolled backwards on landing and stood up with his sword drawn and then, taking a deep breath, he let loose a torrent of hot flames, " **YOL TUUR SHUL!** "

As the firestorn raced forward to envelop the dovah, Eragon followed it running up at the dovah... the flames had barely any effect, as he predicted.. dragonscales were after all, almost fireproof; but they served one important purpose... they had blinded sahloknir. He jumped, grabbed Sahloknir's horns and swung himself to stand atop his head. Raising his sword, eragon plunged it deep at the base of the dovah's skull, kiling him instantly.

The dovah gave a last roar of agony before collapsing.

Eragon stepped down wearily, stumbling across the snowdrifts to where a crowd stood aghast at what they had seen. Arya ran to him immediately, lending him her shoulders as support; he looked at her and there were tears welling up in her eyes.

 _'You idiot! Don't ever scare me like that, ever again!'_

 _'Nice to see you too.'_ he quipped, a small smile gracing his face.

Several gasps were uttered by the crowd and Eragon turned towards the giant corpse of the dovah; he knew what was about to happen, having witnessed it several times in his visions.

The dovah's body was glowing, its scales and flesh disintegrated as a fire consumed it from within... and then with a roar, beautiful red and blue lights rushed out towards Eragon, enveloping his body, a cacophony of sounds overwhelmed his senses as the dovah's soul was absorbed by is own. Strength rushed back into his arms and legs, healing his injuries and driving away his exhaustion.

And then the light show faded away, the skeleton of the dovah, the only existence of the entire event ever occuring. Eragon walked upto the skeleton and placing his hand on the skull, whispered, "you fought well, brother."

A muffled thud and a shudder of the land itself announced the landing of Ahiraj and Eragon turned around. Ahiraj bowed low, his large head almost touching the ground.

"Dovahkiin, you have my allegiance." the dragon said aloud. The gathered crowd also knelt, Baalgruuf and Irileth at the very front, " All hail the DRAGONBORN!" they all cheered.

* * *

Translatio **ns of Dovahzul phrases and words used in this chapter:**

 **Thu'um-** the projection of energy in a particular manner by using words in Dovahzul- english equivalent is shout.

 **THURI -** master

 **Dovah Nor-** dragon nation

 **Wuth Gein-** Old one, an alias of Paarthunax.

 **Nid-** No

 **SAHLOKNIR -** Phantom-Sky-Hunt

 **WULD NA KEST-** WHIRLWIND FURY TEMPEST- WHIRLWING SPRINT shout: which accelerates the speaker through space and time instantaneously

 **YOL TUUR SHUL-** FIRE INFERNO SUN- FIRE BREATH shout which releases a powerful inferno inferno.


	13. Chapter 13 : Interlude

**AN: I'm so sorry for being so very late in submitting this chapter. Life has played havoc with me these last few months… and finally I've been able to put all of my penned thoughts into typed text. I am not completely happy with how this chapter ended up… but it'll do…**

 **Thanks for all your likes and follows- just one request- more reviews- please! They really go a long way in kicking out the occasional writer's block.**

 **Do read and enjoy this new chapter and tell me what you thought about it…**

 **As always all feedback is much appreciated.**

 **Chapter 13 : Interlude**

 _2_ _nd_ _February, 1917 T.E, Early morning…_

His breath came out in great mists in the chill of the morning, as Eragon stepped outside the legionary one man tent.

It had snowed the previous night, but thankfully not heavily… Still Saphira was covered in a light layer of snow – her breaths coming were like the wind from two great bellows.. Laughing silently at the mental image, he started to get ready for the journey ahead.

The horses seemed fine… the heating and insulation wards that he and Arya had put up the previous night were still working.

The surrounding woods were very quiet, a death like stillness hung over the entirety of the woods except for the gurgle of a small stream some distance to the left.. He very well knew that the stream originated from the hot springs that were maybe an hour's ride from the road- and the only reason the water hadn't frozen over.

They were deep inside Urgal territory- five weeks ago Markath's guards had reported a massive Urgal build-up and this was later independently confirmed by the cavalry scouts that Eragon had directed to the area. For four weeks, the holds had prepared for an attack from the Spine, but it never came… What was more puzzling was the fact that the Urgals had simply vanished overnight.

Eragon had been perturbed by the unusual developments- his instinct telling him that some larger, darker game was afoot… He decided to investigate the matter personally and thus his presence deep in the wilds of the Spine.

It was the sixth day since they had left Markath and the should've encountered Urgal patrols by day two or at most three and by now they would have had to flee from a full Urgal warband.. but nothing of the sort occurred. Saphira hadn't seen anything either in the bare pine forests apart from the occasional wildlife.

The rustle behind him told him that Arya was up- that was good- the sooner they resumed their journey the quicker this quandary would be resolved.

She sensed his impatient mood- no real surprise given the strong mental bonds the trio had formed with each other- and rushed to get ready.

'I'm sorry if I woke you up,' Eragon whispered into her mind.

'Your absence woke me up, yes, but it was high time we resumed our journey,' she replied.

Eragon walked upto Saphira and brushed away the snow covering her face- waking her up I the process. She blew warm air into his face in form of greeting before rising to all fours and shaking away the excess snow that still clung to her scales.

"I'll be in the hot springs till you get ready… I need the warmth." She said, a bit terse in the chilly morning before blasting off towards her destination.

She had grown spectacularly in the five months since she had hatched- now she was twice the length of a horse and one and a half times as tall. She couldn't breathe fire for any decent length of time yet.. her vocal chords hadn't grown strong enough yet to handle the vibrations of a thu'um held for long durations…

"I'll look to the tents if you look to the horses?" Arya asked, breaking his chain of thought.

He nodded.

Half an hour later, they were on the old main road that led to Illirea from the ancient citadel of Sancre Tor… the mausoleum of the Reman dynasty as well as the greater Septims.

Saphira flew overhead, keeping her eye out for any dangers.. the lack of any signs of Urgals was beginning to gnaw at Eragon's mind… the Urgalgra were an extremely divided society- there were four major tribes and seven subsidiary ones in Skyrim- all of them were in a state of almost constant warfare and hostility. The last time the Urgals had banded together was during the Great War… that incident proved to be catastrophic for the Mede Empire and the Riders… Eragon worried what a reappearance of a similar banding together would herald…

There had been one tribe that had stayed away from that attack- the Bolvek tribe which was honour bound to uphold a truce between Skyrim and the Urgals. His intention, from the very beginning of their journey was to reach the fortress home of the Bolveks and find out the truth of the matter.

'Dushnikh Yal is to the Southwest of here… if you two push the horses you will reach there by midday tomorrow,' Saphira said.

With an unspoken consent, Arya and Eragon kicked their horses into a full gallop.

 _Late Afternoon…_

Eragon and Arya had had a more or less peaceful ride- except for the two sabretooths who had tried to ambush them.. A shout of "KYNE" from Eragon had them pacified.

Saphira had not been able to spot them hiding underneath a overhand and that made Eragon more cautious… If even Saphira's excellent vision could be fooled…

They were going more slowly now and the horses had managed to recover their breath.. a good thing too…

'Eragon! Frost trolls ahead! They are hunting a pair of Urgal hunters' Saphira suddenly screamed into his mind.

Wincing from the suddenness of the mental spear thrust, Eragon asked, 'where are they?' The road had been descending for the last three miles or so- they were between two tall hills with the road following the slope of the hill on the right. The hills were thickly forested- although there were hardly any leaves in the bare trees- ahead the road curved to the right, disappearing behind the hill..

'A bit far… a third of a mile away from your current position... the Urgals don't stand a chance… I'm intervening.'

Eragon saw what Saphira was seeing.. the trolls- six or seven of them- had descended from a small cave in the mountains to the northwest and had hemmed the hunters into a narrow depression off the road to the left, hemmed in on three sides by steep mountain walls.

Eragon kicked Roheryn to a full gallop, Arya mirroring his actions.. the horses thundered down the cobbled road.

Saphira dived from the clouds, roaring harshly, the trolls pausing as they recognised the deep throated challenge of a dragon.

The mountains made it difficult for Saphira to attack but nonetheless- she dived keeping close to the mountain wall-following the ragged slope, her wings slightly tucked in- reaching frighteningly high speed.

The trolls were distracted by her sudden appearance and the Urgals used the opportunity to scurry down the road towards Eragon and Arya. A dozen meters of the ground- Saphira tilted her wing sockets and snapped her massive wings open, instantly changing her movement form almost completely vertical to almost completely horizontal and yet losing none of her speed.. She made a high speed pass over the trolls- breathing the hottest fire that she could manage. Her thu'um echoed through the valley for miles.

" **YOL TU'UR SHUUL!"**

Hot bright flesh melting flames engulfed the trolls- their chilling screams filled the air as Saphira flapped her wings mightily to gain height.

One of the trolls died in the dragonfire while the rest resumed their pursuit of the hunters. Saphira roared in anger and frustration- she had hoped that her appearance would be sufficient to scare away the trolls- but atleast the trolls were on the road- it would be much easier for her to attack them there. She made a second pass- this time reaching out with her rear legs and ripping another troll open.

As she rose to make a third pass- a horn blew in the distance- its clear ringing tones giving hope to the ragged Urgals and making the trolls pause yet again.

The thunder of shod hooves galloping across cobblestones preceded Eragon and Arya as they burst from the forested bend, charging straight at the trolls.. on seeing their rescuers- the Urgals ran forward and uphill even with greater speed while the trolls roared in anger.

Eragon held his hand-and-a-half sword ready as he neared the trolls- the first one reared up in anger- its clawed arms raised high as if two smash him and Roheryn into the road- he swerved to the left, avoiding the pale twelve feet tall beast and brought down his blade in a fast upward slice- the tempered edge of the Skysteel sword cutting through the troll's torso rather easily.

Beside him, an arc of lightning fried the troll who tried to claw him off the saddle- sending it flying.

Roheryn was still galloping at full pace- making it easy for him to decapitate the next troll and Arya cleaved another with her own sabre. Saphira landed atop the last one, crushing its head underneath her forelegs.

The two urgals slowly approached the trio- they held bows in their hands but hadn't knocked any arrows.

Urgals were certainly different from other races… dark green or greyish skinned and no less than six feet tall with pointed ears and large canines that protruded beyond their upper lips- they certainly looked intimidating.

But Eragon knew that Urgals were an honourable, hardworking and trustworthy race- they lead harsh lives in their strongholds and mines- living their lives as per strict and unforgiving rules known as the Code of Malacath. They were, as a rule, exceptionally strong and made great smiths, soldiers and hunters… unfortunately, the Urgals had an unhealthy addiction to war.. but even then they fought as per strict rules of engagement.

"Thank you, horse-masters and thank you, great dragon for saving our lives. May Malacath protect you for your valorous deeds!" One of the Urgals said in the common tongue.

"We did what we felt to be right. I am Eragon Bloodborne, this is Arya of the Blades and the dragon is Saphira. May we know your names?"

"I am Yurgob and this is my cousin Ghoragdush. We're hunters from Dushnikh Yal."

"From Dushnikh Yal, you say?" Eragon asked, smiling widely, "I believe we were destined to meet, friends."

* * *

The fortress of Dushnikh Yal was truly impressive.. hewn from the solid granite of the mountain- the walls of the citadel were quite literally a single monolithic structure- a continuous part of the mountain and thus much stronger than artificially built wall would have been.

There were several buildings apart from the citadel- a granary, a mill, a smithy even what appeared to be a barracks of sorts. These structures were protected by a stone walls that surrounded the whole area and an outer ring of wooden palisades.

They were stopped at the palisades and the two hunters went inside to speak on their behalf.

A few moments later, a massive Urgal, close to nine feet tall appeared from behind the gates.

"Kull," Eragon whispered to Arya. The kull in question was wearing thick greenish plate armour, layered in plates to give the appearance of large scales. A wicked looking mace hung at his waist.. the urgal had bright eyes with grey irises, his grey hair was tied in a loose ponytail that was draped over his left shoulder. His face and arms were quite thoroughly crisscrossed with scars of varying thicknesses and lengths. He studied Eragon first and then Arya, his intelligent eyes lingering on them for a few seconds each before moving on to rest on Saphira. The Kull gave the dragoness a respectful bow and Saphira dipped her head in return.

"I am Nar Garzhvog, chief of the Bolvek tribe. You have saved the lives of my sister sons and for that you have my gratitude," the now identified chief spoke to the still mounted companions.

"I am Eragon Bloodborne, Thane of Whiterun and this is Arya of the Blades. Our winged companion is Saphira daughter of Vervada. We would speak with you and your council, Nar Garzhvog." Eragon said.

The Nar nodded, "I had wished to send a message to the Jarl of Whiterun for some time… it is fortuitous that we have met, Eragon Bloodborne. Please come in."

He waved his hands and the wooden gates were opened wide. A small feast had been organized in their honour and that, more than anything else, told Eragon just how similar the Urgals were to other races.

The atmosphere at the Chief's table was jovial even though Eragon didn't understand a word of what was being spoken in the deep gravelling tongue. There were several games of riddles, much to the delight of Saphira who spoke through an interpreter. Two bards were there as well who sang of the legends and myths of the Urgalgra. The Nar translated some of the songs for the benefit of Arya and Eragon…. At one point in the feast, the Chief turned to Eragon, "tell me Eragon, what really brings you and your companion here…?"

"We are worried about the _en masse_ disappearance of the Urgal tribes… You know as well as I what happened the last time around when the other tribes banded together…" Eragon left the statement hanging.

The Nar nodded his massive head once, "I do believe that we may be able to shed some light on this disappearance… but that is a discussion for tomorrow in front of the council."

Eragon agreed and they dispersed for the night.

"Your people are the only ones who have remained true to the truce agreed between us… the others attacked us fifteen years ago and now once again, we find them missing.. the entire tract of land from the edge of Markath hold to your own territory lie completely empty. I would be very grateful if you could shed some light on this development." Eragon said to the gathered council.

Eragon, Arya and the elders were gathered in the Chief's longhouse. The doors were kept open to allow the other members of the tribe and Saphira to witness the proceedings.

The elders began to converse among themselves but one particular woman, who had been introduced to Eragon as Mubrul, Nar Garzhvog's mother and Wise Woman of the tribe gazed at him with a small smile on her wrinkled face.

A warrior of the tribe rose from his oxhide chair and gazed hatefully at Eragon and Arya, who were sitting facing the semi-circular Council.

"And why must we divulge our secrets to the outlanders? The humans have shown nothing but scorn and contempt for us…!" He spat venomously. "Let them all rot in hell for all I care… they are the ones who are responsible for this mess in the first place… As far as I am concerned there is no difference between the Empire, Skyrim and the Varden…"

The brute's rant was stopped quite suddenly by Mubrul who rose from her seat and banged an as yet unseen staff- a light ripple of energy passed through the house and everyone fell silent, their attention focused upon the old woman.

"Enough Yamarz," the woman said with steel lacing her voice. "I've had enough of your hate-filled drivel." She added several words in the native tongue of the Urgals, which Eragon guessed by Yamarz's reaction were very insulting in their nature. "Remove yourself from this council immediately." The woman finished in the common tongue, all the while gazing straight at Eragon with a neutral expression.

' _I like her'_ Saphira quipped and Eragon had to fight to keep a smile from his face. The great amusement that he felt from Arya didn't help…

Yamarz recovered from his anger enough to shout in anger, "you would banish your own blood…! For this outlander? This nord?"

"Fool! This is no mere Nord! HE is the Dragon of the North..! HE is DOVAHKIIN!"

That announcement was followed by a stunned silence.. before the whole air filled with urgent whispers. Eragon groaned in the privacy of his shared mind… Yet another group had become aware of his identity.

Arya had become suspicious and was drawing in her energy reserves, preparing herself for a tense confrontation. Saphira had risen up onto all fours and was growling… the Urgals outside had scattered away… fearful of the dragoness' wrath.

"Do not be alarmed, Dovahkiin. Your Dovah Sos burns so bright that people must be truly blind to not see you for what you are.." the Wise woman said, a smirk adorning her stern features for so short a time that Eragon was convinced he was seeing things.

He sent a calming thought to both of his friends and they relaxed.

Nar Garzvhog sighed, shaking his not inconsiderable head in irritation.., "Very well… I find myself agreeing with my mother… Much to my own surprise.." he smiled, "Your being dragonborn is a bonus.. I had already decided last night to reveal what we believe to you… Hearing my mother today only assures me that my decision is a sound one."

The Nar took a deep breath before looking around the room, meeting the eyes of every Urgal present. "You are right of course, Eragon; the Urgalgra have not come together like this for many decades… not since the fall of Orsinium… This particular coming together and the one just before the Great War were not true coming togethers either. There is some sort of trickery… a malfeasance of sorts that has pervaded the minds of the other Nars.. I do not understand much of spells and sorcery…" the Nar looked at a loss for words and turned to his mother for help.

"What my son wants to say is that the minds of the other chiefs have been possessed by a powerful entity or perhaps entities… The same would have been our fate had I not made him an amulet that protects him from foreign influences."

Eragon and Arya shared a worried look… this matter of possession was worrisome… if the minds of the stubborn Urgals could be brought to heel… there was no saying what these mysterious entities could do to others.

' _Who do you think is behind this? This is certainly not the work of Alduin or any other Dovah… Legends speak of a shout that allows you to subvert someone's will to your own but these shouts do not work at any great distance or for any great duration of time.'_

' _I think that this is Galbatorix's doing.. there have been persistent rumours that the Mad King has a shade in his employ. A shade could conceivably do this.'_ Arya replied.

' _It doesn't matter who is doing this… we must inform our allies of this possession and check our own leaders to make sure that no one on our side is suffering from the same.'_ Saphira said, an angry growl resounding throughout her mind. Dragons hated such underhanded tactics with a passion… having been the target of such attacks during their war with the elves.

"Thank you, Nar Garzvhog and Mubrul… this information may well save countless lives…" Eragon said, bowing to the council.

* * *

 _SkyHaven Temple, the Spine. 15_ _th_ _February, 2017 T.E_

"So, this is the real reason why you brought me here-to gain access to the Archives of the Dragonguards…" Eragon looked at Esbern- the Loremaster and Keeper of the Blades.

The Blades were amongst the oldest orders in the history of Alagaesia- the very first Blades had come to Alagaesia in truly ancient times- thousands of years ago as part pof the Dragonguards- wo had invaded Alagaesia from the distant lands of Akaviir-in search of the Dragonborn. They defeated the fierce Nord-Elf alliance and seemed unstoppable when they were finally defeated by Reman Cyrodiil- first Emperor and Dragonborn. The Akaviiri had immediately sworn fealty to Reman Cyrodiil and served as the bodyguards to him and his heirs.

Reman's dynasty ended with Reman III who was assassinated along with his two sons by agents of the High Elves of the Summerset Isles- a distant group of islands far to the South West. Amidst the resulting chaos, the High Elves invaded and scythed a path of uter devastation through the land- ruling with an iron fist, unchallenged until Tiber Septim forged an alliance of men, dragons and the wood elves to retake the heart of Alagaesia- marking the beginning of the Second Era and the beginning of the Septim Empire.

In the interregnum between the two empires- the Blades, ashamed of their failure to protect Reman's heirs and burning with hatred for the High Elves (Aldmer), evolved into an intelligence service. Hitting back at the Aldmer and stoking the resistance within the Aldmer controlled territory, the Blades had spies and agents everywhere, even deep in the enemies' camp- their services would prove to be invaluable to Tiber Septim.

Later, Tiber would reorganise the Blades into an order of warriors, closely associated with the Greybeards who had been the Emperor's mentors. Nonetheless, the Blades' extensive network of Spies was retained and indeed expanded upon during the reign of the Septims; so much so that soon the Blades had spies of all races and all occupations in their pay. Such was the reach and influence of the Blades that their Grandmaster was the single most powerful person in the Emperor's Elder Council. Not even the Riders and the Elven court were immune from espionage. The Second Era would mark the height of the Blades' power and influence.

The assassination of Uriel Septim VII and the subsequent Oblivion Crisis would mark the beginning of the end for the Blades. Between Reman III and Uriel, the Blades had failed at their sacred duty of protecting the Dragonborn emperor. When Martin Septim, the last Dragonborn emperor sacrificed his life and ended the Oblivion Crisis… it brought and abrupt end to the Blades.

The new dynasty, the Medes, refused to allow the Blades to guard the emperors, not when they had twice failed- and so spectacularly at that. Without and empire to guard and serve and with no dragonborn, the Blades drifted aimlessly decaying with the centuries… until the present time when there were hardly any Blades left.

However, the return of Alduin had rejuvenated the order.. after all their origin was as famed dragon-slayers. The Greybeards had asked them to renew their old contacts within the Empire. The loremaster had begun to go through the ancient archives looking for anything in the old documents that would help them in the coming war against Alduin.

And that is where Eragon came in… for the ancient archives had been sealed shut by a blood-seal.

"Yes, Dovakiin.." Esbern, the old man had almost danced with joy when he and Saphira had walked though the double granite doors.

"What do I've to do?"

"Cut your palm and press it against the center of the seal" Esbern instructed – pointing to the seal o the floor- made from three concentric circles of some greyish metal.

Stepping closer, Eragon kneeled by the seal- keenly studying the runes etched into the three discs. They were elven runes- written clearly in the Ancient Language of the Snow Elves. Arya came and stood beside him.

"Can you identify the runes?" she asked.

"I can.. these are the runes for sealing and binding, this cluster powers the whole ward using… oh it is tied to something outside the building- that's weird."

Arya studied the runes he was gesturing at- "these runes link to energy absorbing ones above us.. outside- they draw their energy from the sun's rays. These ones test and verify your blood for… _divine blessing_?!"

Eragon refrained from whistling his appreciation.. the ancient Akaviiri certainly knew their runes.

"So that means that not just Dragonborns but potentially any half-god would be able to open this up." Arya continued.

Eragon cut open his left palm and pressed it against the center of the Blood Seal. The blood slowly trickled through the crevices and the device suddenly glowed brightly with a white-bluish hue.

 **So, how did you find this chapter? Liked it? Hated it? Hit the review button and tell me.**


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